


The Wolf and the Raven, Bk 1

by TheOnlySongintheForest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marauders - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anamagi, Branwen Potter, Christmas Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Fluff, First War with Voldemort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Gryffindor, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, Hufflepuff, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Peter Pettigrew is a Marauder, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Prankster Harry Potter, Quidditch, Ravenclaw, Remus Lupin & James Potter Friendship, Romantic Fluff, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Slytherin, The Marauder's Map, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Werewolf Remus Lupin, Werewolves, Young James Potter, Young Peter Pettigrew, Young Remus Lupin, Young Sirius Black, james potter sister
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 77,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28975056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlySongintheForest/pseuds/TheOnlySongintheForest
Summary: James Potter's younger sister joins him at Hogwarts becoming a part of the Marauder mayhem. War is on the horizon, but there are more pressing matters for now...like how to become an Animagus and who will win the Quidditch Cup.Book One covers Marauders years 1-4*This has quickly become a huge undertaking, but still a labor of love. Read, comment, kudo, share, bookmark, and most of all enjoy!.*
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore & Marauders, Alice Longbottom/Frank Longbottom, Euphemia Potter/Fleamont Potter, Hope Lupin/Lyall Lupin, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Lily Evans Potter & Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Marauders & Kingsley Shacklebolt, Marauders & Lily Evans Potter, Marauders & Minerva McGonagall, Marauders & Severus Snape, Marauders (Harry Potter) & Original Female Character(s), Remus Lupin & James Potter, Remus Lupin/Original Character(s), Remus Lupin/Original Female Character(s), Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter & Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	1. Meet Cute

“But Mummy, why can’t I go a year early? No one will know. I can hide under dad’s invisibility cloak!” The little girl tugged on her mother’s hand.  


Euphemia Potter sighed. “Branwen, we’ve been over this a hundred times. Your letter will come next year. Let James have his time for now.”  


The girl jerked her hand from her mother’s grasp and pointed her large blue eyes and pouting lips at her father. Fleamont Potter, a pot-bellied man with a continuous twinkle in his eyes, dug his hand into the deep pockets of his purple robes. “Here, love,.” he handed his daughter a clinking scoop of gold coins. “Find yourself something to tide you over while James and your mother do their shopping.”  


A smile bloomed on the girl’s face and she skipped down the crowded street, her immaculate dark braids bouncing at every step. She was on her way to Quality Quidditch Supplies (the Holyhead Harpies had released a new poster of their Seeker, Ginger Larkins) when she stopped to stare at a boy in front of Sugarplum’s Sweets Shop.  


He stood out as the only person on Diagon Alley not in a hurry to get somewhere He looked both curious and complacent standing just outside the orange glow spilling from the shop windows. He was the same height as Branwen and dressed in clothes that, though clean, were worn and patched. His sandy hair fell into his eyes and his left hand was scratching absently at a red band-aid on his neck. Intrigued, Branwen stuffed the coins in her child’s-sized purse and sauntered over.  


“Hello.”  


The boy jumped nearly stumbling over his own feet as he backed away.  


“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.” She stuck out her small hand. “My name’s Branwen. Branwen Potter. You can call me Bran if you want to though. Most people do. Blame my parents for giving me such a silly name.”  


Branwen watched the boy’s soft, green eyes grow wide in his thin face. That was when she noticed the two long pink scars that slashed diagonally across his face. There was no disguising her blatant stare and the boy started to stammer. “I...I….my name….I’m….”  


Branwen’s hand was still hovering in midair, but neither acknowledged it as each of them gawked at the other.  


At that moment, the bell above the shop’s door rang and a chorus of laughing children ran out into the street.  


The sudden burst of sound and movement seemed to snap Branwen out of her daze. She smiled as wide as she could. “Well, come on! No use standing out here….the candy’s in there.” Her open hand shot forward, grabbed his limp one, and yanked him through the door.  


The shop was a pocket of chaos. Children darted amongst high wooden shelves overflowing with candies of every shape and colour. Above their heads, parents called out names with anxious franticness, searching the bobbing heads for the ones that belonged to them.  


Branwen leaped up on the bottom rung of a ladder that ran on a track around the room and reached for a handful of brightly coloured lollipops. “So what’s your favourite?”  


The boy looked suprised to realise she was still speaking to him. “My favourite what?”  


“Your favourite candy, silly.”  


“Um,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, “I guess I like Mars Bars.”  


Branwen’s nose crinkled. “Mars Bars? I’ve never heard of those. Oh!” Her mouth dropped open and she leapt down, nearly landing on the boy’s toes. “Is that a Muggle candy? Are you a Muggle-born?”  


“Well, half-blood, I guess.” He scratched again at the band-aid. “My dad’s a wizard, my mum’s a Muggle.”  


“That’s so cool! I don’t really know much about the Muggle world. I bet you know everything about both worlds though.”  


The boy mumbled something that sounded like “I s’pose.” Mostly he just blushed and stared anywhere but her face. The word “cool” was not something that had ever been associated with him. Ever.  


“Hmm,” Branwen’s small fingers drummed along her lips. “We don’t have any Space Candy, but we do have these. Have you ever had a Chocolate Frog?” She leaned above his head and plucked down a pentagon-shaped box.  


“Yeah. They taste good and I like the cards, but it’s kinda creepy when they jump like that.”  


“That’s true,” she giggled. “So what are you going to get?”  


His face flushed again. “I, I don’t know. My mum’s got the money. She’s out looking at some new robes I think. I was just kinda looking, you know?”  


“I understand.” Branwen said in the same solemn tone he used, even though she didn’t understand at all. What kind of parent sent their child off without spending money? Was he in trouble or something? The Potters always made sure their children ran around with everything they could want.  


When the silence stretched between them into an unbearable awkwardness, Branwen gushed, “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”  


“Tomorrow?” He was shocked once again.  


“Yeah. You’re going to Hogwarts, right? On the train? I’m going to go and see my brother off. It’s his first year. It’d be my first year too, if I wasn’t born so late,” she pouted.  


“Oh, oh yeah. It’s my first year too. So I guess I’ll see you there. And your brother.” He gave a small way and began edging toward the door.  


“Wait!” Branwen ran after him, the bell clanging loudly behind her. “You still didn’t tell me your name!”  


He smiled, the first genuine one since meeting her. “It’s Remus. Remus Lupin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I always swore I would never be an author that abandoned their work on here, but unfortunately my "Father Brown" fanfic got shunted when my life went to pieces. I still have the ending outlined and would like to come back to it someday, but for right now my muse wants me to write some Marauders fic. I love these boys to pieces!  
> Hope you all enjoy!


	2. The Hogwarts Express

The next day found Platform 9¾ packed with wizard families milling around a scarlet steam engine. The Hogwarts Express was spitting steam and huffing its gears in anticipation of its departure.  


James Potter had already darted away from his parents and sister, searching for the friends he already knew. He quickly joined up with Frank Longbottom, a boy a year older who had already been sorted into Gryffindor, and together they seemed to be running for the sheer pleasure and excitement, enjoying when the crowd parted for their passing.  


Still clutching her father’s hand, Branwen craned her neck to observe the rest of the milling throng.  


Standing as far as they could from the noise of the train was a family Branwen knew by name and reputation, but with whom the Potters had never associated. (Whenever their name was brought up, she heard her father mutter something about “bleeding racists” under his breath). Mr. and Mrs. Orion Black stood rigid with their noses held slightly aloft as though this were the normal posture to be expected from human beings. A tiny boy, his black hair slicked tight against his head, clung tightly to his mother’s hand. Beside him, a taller boy with equally dark hair was eagerly scanning the crowd. His eyes followed James and Frank with a kind of hunger, as though desperate to join them, but not yet brave enough to leave his mother’s side.  


Speaking with the Blacks was another family with whom Branwen was less familiar. The Malices, or Magons, or Malfoys, or something equally ridiculous. Their only son sauntered nearby, a shining green pin gleaming from his chest; there was no disguising his pride in being a Slytherin Prefect.  


Branwen continued to scan the crowd though, realising she was only looking for one student. She spotted a small, pale boy who was positively trembling beside equally nervous parents. Taking them instantly for Muggles, she began to drift in their direction, hoping perhaps they had some knowledge of the boy she sought.  


Her eyes still darting around, she managed to miss the luggage at her feet and fell headlong to the floor. She glanced back at the offending object, a soft, shining suitcase of dark leather. On a small gold plaque near the handle was the inscription, R.J. Lupin.  


She smiled immediately. Though she wasn’t sure what the “J” stood for, she found it unlikely that there was another Lupin with a name beginning in “R” running around. The boy was still nowhere in sight though, so she made a quick decision. She dug out a, now somewhat squashed, bag of chocolates from her coat pocket. Yanking out the red ribbon from her hair, she threaded it through the handle of the suitcase and secured the bag. Then she threw herself up from the ground and scurried away as fast as she could, ducking behind a soot-stained pillar.  


Just as she disappeared from sight, the unmistakeable sound of a father’s disapproval cut through the crowd. “Remus! How could you misplace it? Don’t you know how much that cost your mother and I?”  


“Lyall,” a soft voice followed. “It’s right here. No need to worry.”  


Branwen peeked around the corner. Remus was hurrying toward the suitcase. A frail woman clutching a shawl followed close behind. He stopped short a few feet from the suitcase when he spotted the gift attached. His eyes darted around, trying to spot the generous culprit. Before his father caught up with him though, he tugged the package free and stuffed it in his pocket.  


“Branwen! Branwen Euphemia Potter, where are you?” Mrs. Potter’s voice beckoned her daughter back to her side. She ran over as fast as she could, almost certain she could feel Remus’ eyes following the back of her head. Without its ribbon, her long, dark braid, normally the tidy opposite of her brother’s messy mane, began to unravel as she ran.  


“Say good-bye to your brother, dear.”  


Without the awkwardness of most siblings, James and Branwen embraced, James placing a quick peck on his sister’s cheek. “Bye Bon-Bon! I’ll write you at least once a semester!” She waved as he ran and caught up with Frank and jumped aboard the chugging train.  


A puff wind gusted through the station, clearing the thick white smoke just in time for Branwen to pick out the last two stragglers scrambling to catch the train. A thin, freckled girl was running along, dragging her trunk, her long red hair billowing behind her.  


“Severus! Hurry up! There won’t be any compartments left!” the girl shouted.  


A scraggly, black-haired boy jogged behind her, curtains of greasy hair obscuring his face. “It won’t leave without us, Lily.”  


Still she waved him on from the train, yanking his trunk up behind hers. “Come on!”  


Once the door slid shut behind them, the engine rumbled in earnest and the gears began slipping forward.  


With the platform air now swathed in white smoke, it was hard to see any of the other students who had boarded. Branwen tried to push aside her disappointment at not seeing her secret beneficiary one last time. Still, she trotted down the length of the train until she saw James’ head poking out of a compartment window. He waved enthusiastically at his sister. She ran as far and fast as she could, keeping her brother in sight until the train disappeared around a bend.


	3. Letters Home

James’ first letter arrived two weeks after his departure. His pale, flat-faced barn owl, Deacon, soared through the open bay windows at the Potters’ London home. Deacon was followed closely by Angelo, the family eagle owl. Angelo circled once around the breakfast table, dropping three envelopes before Mrs. Potter and a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of Mr. Potter while Deacon flew straight to Branwen, delivering a small, rather grubby piece of parchment before making his way to the attic where the Potter owls resided.  


Branwen tore it open excitedly:

Dear Bon-Bon,  
I can’t believe I’ve been at Hogwarts for two weeks! I miss you lots, but I’ve made some great new friends too. I got sorted into Gryffindor (of course) and there are three other boys in my year, Remus, Peter, and Sirius.  
Remus is a nice guy. Quiet. He knows all the answers in class but never says anything. We told him it’s okay though, as long as he helps us with the homework (which there is a lot of!). Poor guy’s in hospital right now though. Got a nasty cold.  
Peter’s a Muggle-born, so he knows practically nothing. Can you believe he’d never even heard of Quidditch?! I’ve taken him under my wing to teach him the right way to be a wizard, which of course includes an oath to support Puddlemere United for all eternity.  
Speaking of being the right kind of wizard, the other boy Sirius is part of the Black family. I thought he’d be a total git because of it, but he’s actually pretty cool. He says he’s the first one in his family to be in Gryffindor. Can you imagine?! He was also the first of us to get detention. He made a paper bird and tried to make it fly in class. It caught on fire. Maybe don’t tell Mum about that last part? I don’t want her think I’m hanging out with the wrong kind.  
Can’t wait ‘til you get here! You’ll fit right in. Bye for now,  
Jamie

Branwen kept every letter her brother sent in a small drawer beside her bed. James wrote things like “we got pelted by Peeves, the school’s poltergeist yesterday; planning revenge” and “Sirius and Peter started a food fight this morning; we all got detention” and “visited Remus in the hospital wing last night; had to use Dad’s cloak to avoid getting caught by Mr. Filch and his ugly cat.”  


Branwen sent a reply every time, but felt that her news was always a disappointment. “Mum and Daddy are still doing well;” “I did some more practise with my broom yesterday;” “the aconite in the garden is coming along swimmingly.”  


Each day, she marked a new little red “x” on the calendar on her wall. Each one was another twenty-four hours gone, twenty-four hours closer to Hogwarts.


	4. Even More Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really struggling with AO3's formatting right now. I promise to go back in and fix it as soon as I can between editing and posting new chapters.

July 1st found a reversal of the September scene on Platform 9¾. Parents milled together, exchanging gossip with those they hadn’t seen in nearly a year. Some of the younger children, like Branwen, not yet old enough for Hogwarts, ran about, standing on tiptoe to see who could be the first to spot the scarlet engine.  


A clear, shrill whistle heralded the students’ return. It was followed by a cloud of steam blowing down the tracks, and finally the train itself drew to a creaking, groaning halt.  


“Mum!” James was one of the first off the train. Though now a slightly taller twelve year old (with slightly longer hair), he was still as anxious as ever to greet his family. He and Branwen nearly threw themselves to the ground as they embraced with the energy and power of professional wrestlers. “Branwen, come on!” He untangled himself and dragged her toward the train. “These are my friends I wrote you about.”  


Standing in front of them was tall black-haired Sirius, short, plump Peter, and of course, Remus Lupin. The flush that bloomed on his face highlighted a new white scar just below his jaw.  


“It’s nice to meet you. James has told me so much about you.” Branwen glanced at her brother, expecting him to nudge the conversation on, but his hazel eyes were fixed on a point over the shoulders of his friends. Sirius followed his gaze.  


“Oh!” He grinned and rolled his eyes when he saw the red-headed girl. “That’s Lily Evans. Your big brother fancies her.”  


“I do not!” James spat it out like a knee-jerk reaction.  


“Is she nice?” Branwen tried to catch a better look without staring too much.  


“Kind of,” Peter piped up. “She’s in Gryffindor too, but she doesn’t really like us. She always hangs out with that gross Slytherin kid, Severus.”  


Branwen squinted as she watched Lily and Severus jog toward a handsome couple standing with their tall, skinny daughter. Lily’s family, judging by the woman’s sleek red hair and the man’s sparkling green eyes.  


“Well!” Mr. Potter clapped a thick hand on his son’s shoulder and smiled at the other three boys, “seems we sent one away and got four back! You boys joining us for the summer? Always plenty of room at the Potter home.”  


James tugged on his father’s sleeve, “Mum said they could stay over the week before next term. If it’s okay with their parents.”  


“I know it’ll be fine with mine,” Peter was nearly hopping from foot to foot. “Magic makes my mum and dad kind of uncomfortable. They’ll be happy to skip any time in Diagon Alley.”  


“Good, good!” Mr. Potter smiled. “And what about you boys?”  


Sirius was peering through untidy bangs toward his mother who was watching his interaction with the Potters with a stiff lip. “I’ll have to speak with my mother, sir.”  


“And you, Remus?” It was Branwen who asked this time.  


He glanced toward his mother as well, but then looked down at the small watch on his wrist. “I’ll, I’ll have to check. But I would like it very much.” When he looked up, he grinned at Branwen who, unaware she’d been staring, smiled back.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

July and August saw a flurry of owls and letters arrive at the Potter household. First came two letters from Hogwarts, a second year supply list for Mr. J. Potter, Second Bedroom on the Left, Potter House, London, and a welcome letter and first year list for Miss B. Potter, Second Bedroom on the Right, Potter House, London.  


These were followed a day later by a note from Mrs. Pettigrew, on flowery Muggle stationary. A stamp had evidently been placed in the corner, then scratched off when it was remembered that owls required no postage.  
“My dear Mrs. Potter,  
We are delighted at your invitation for our Petey to come stay with you this summer. Unfortunately, he neglected to tell James that he has already made a commitment to visit his grandparents in America for the month of August. We look forward, however, to seeing you and your family on the 31st of August in the Leaky Cauldron.  
All the best,  
Paula Pettigrew

Next week saw one from Mrs. Black, on creamy parchment, addressed in swirling green calligraphy.  
Mr. and Mrs. Fleamont Potter,  
We extend our gratitude to you and your son for inviting Sirius to join you during the summer holidays. However, Sirius has many duties here at home which will exclude him from any outings. I’m sure the boys will find they have ample time to spend together during the school year.  
Sincerely,  
Mrs. Orion Black

Finally came a small envelope, its contents written in the tidy penmanship of R. J. Lupin.  
Dear James, and Branwen,  
I’m sorry I won’t be able to come over during the week before school. My aunt contracted dragon pox last month, and I’ll be spending time with her and mother at St. Mungo’s. Would much rather be there with you guys. I’ll see you at the Leaky Cauldron though.  
Best wishes,  
Remus  
P.S. Congrats on your acceptance letter, Branwen! We’ll save you a seat at the Gryffindor table!

When her family wasn’t looking, Branwen sneaked that letter into her drawer, adding it to the ones from her brother.  


\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

James moped about the house for a few days after the letters arrived, but perked up when Branwen suggested practising their Quidditch moves. As a second year, James would be able to bring his own broom, a Nimbus 1000, and try out for the Gryffindor team in the fall.  


As the siblings rested on their brooms, high enough above Hyde Park to avoid being sighted by Muggles, Branwen asked, “James, do you really think I’ll be sorted into Gryffindor?”  
James shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Most every Potter has been. Besides, the only other house you could possibly fit into would be Hufflepuff.”  


“Are you saying I’m not smart enough for Ravenclaw?” Her hands went to her hips.  


James chuckled. “Well, you’re definitely not a Slytherin, at least. And hey, you know you can actually tell the Sorting Hat which House you want. That’s what Sirius said. He said it was going to put him in Slytherin and he threatened to set it on fire if it didn’t put him somewhere else. I guess maybe that’s why it picked Gryffindor. Gotta have some balls to argue with the Hat.”  


Branwen frowned as she considered this. “I don’t think I’m that brave.”  


“The Hat will know. Now come on; I want to practise that Porksoff Ploy one more time before we head home.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Finally, just a few days before the Potters were due on Diagon Alley, another package arrived. This one bore the official seal of the Ministry of Magic and was addressed to “Families of Hogwarts Students.” Inside was a bundle of pamphlets that spilled onto the table when James ripped open the wrapping.  


“Dad, who’s Vol-dee-mort?”  


Fleamont’s paper fell into his plate of bacon and beans; Euphemia’s fork clattered to the floor.  


“What did you say, son?”  


“These papers. They’re from the Ministry. They’re talking about someone called Vol-dee-mort and all kinds of nasty other things. Look: vampires, Inferi, werewolves.” James pointed at the moving illustrations as the siblings spread the tracts between themselves. One showed a cloaked man transfiguring into a bat and flying off into a twilit sky. On another, a lake was churning as a mass of skeletal figures crawled out. And on the last was a vicious looking man, growling and snarling at the camera with unusually long teeth and yellow eyes. He held a prison identification card that read: Fenrir Greyback.  


“Give me those!” Euphemia gasped and snatched the pamphlets away. “Fleamont, tell them what you must, but don’t let them look at these awful pictures. Sending things like this to schoolchildren. What can Dumbledore be thinking?”  


Fleamont cleared his throat, the eyes of his two children fixed on him in earnest eagerness. “Children, your mother and I have tried to teach you that there is good and evil in this world. We all have light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are.  
“Unfortunately, some wizards choose to act on the dark in themselves. In fact, that’s just what this fellow Voldemort is doing. And apparently he’s trying to drum up followers now. Witches and wizards, yes, but also unsavoury characters like those.” He jerked his thumb toward the pamphlets Euphemia had tossed in the waste-bin.  


“Should we – should we be scared?” Branwen whispered.  


James scoffed. “’Course not! We’re Gryffindors! We’re not afraid of anything! Besides, we’ve got Dumbledore. No one can defeat him.”  


“Your brother’s right on at least one of those points. Hogwarts is the safest place for you kids. Dumbledore, and all the professors there, know more than a thing or two about fighting Dark Magic.”  


“All right,” Euphemia stood, crossing her arms. “That’s enough of that. I want you two to go and see what you have for school so we’ll know what we need to buy when we get to Diagon Alley.”  


James and Branwen scampered off to obey their mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Peter Pettigrew will continue to be the victim of my alliteration vice, lol.


	5. Diagon Alley

The Leaky Cauldron functioned as the entrance to Diagon Alley and as an inn for most of the travellers who journeyed there from the farther corners of the Isles. Down the street though, across from the immaculate alabaster building of Gringotts bank, was the gold-accented Elysium Inn. The Potters had a suite reserved on the top floor for their annual excursion to the wizard shopping hub.  
  
They arrived a few days before the start-of-the-school-year crowd. In the mornings, they got some of the more boring tasks out of the way (robes, writing equipment, cauldrons), then spent the hot afternoons in Florean Fortescues chilled ice cream parlour.  
  
On 31st August, Fleamont and Euphemia gave their children a jingling pouch of galleons and permission to wait for their friends in the Leaky Cauldron. James and Branwen arrived early to scarf down a quick breakfast and were fighting over the last bit of toast when the bell above the door rang, admitting a small, pale boy and two cautious looking parents.  
  
“Peter!” James yelled and waved his arm in greeting.  
  
“Hey James,” Petter jogged over to the siblings. “Hi, uh….”  
  
“Branwen,” She shook the boy’s sweaty, chubby hand.  
  
“Oh yeah. Sorry I forgot. Nice to see you again. Anyway, Mum, Dad, you don’t have to stay. The Potters can take care of me now.”  
  
James and Branwen exchanged a confused glance (they hadn’t exactly agreed to babysit their friend), but the Pettigrews seemed not to notice. They handed their son his large trunk, the cage with his spotted rat, and a handful of Muggle bills to change at Gringotts. With only a passing farewell, they were soon back on the London street.  
  
Nearly as soon as the door had shut behind the Pettigrews, another threesome walked in.  
  
“Remus!” The crowd in the pub was growing and this time James stood on his chair, wobbling a bit as he waved both arms and shouted above the din.  
  
Remus’ face lit up. He tugged on his father’s coat, whispered something, and, after receiving a warm nod and smiled, ran to his friends.  
  
“Hi James! Branwen! Peter!”  
  
The boys all clapped each other on the back. Only Branwen seemed to notice when she hugged Remus that, beneath the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing in a sweltering London summer, he had lost more than a few pounds. Now an inch or two taller than Branwen as well, he had the odd appearance of an under-stuffed scarecrow.  
  
“Is Sirius here?” Remus asked.  
  
James frowned. “I haven’t seen him. Let’s head out look for him.”  
  
Remus glanced over his shoulder as his parents approached. “Mum, Dad, can I go out with them?”  
  
“Of course, son.” Lyall Lupin answered.  
  
“We’ll get your school things. Just make sure you stick with your friends and come find us if you need anything.” Hope Lupin smiled through her pale, wan face.  
  
Lyall put a hand on his son’s shoulder, blocking father and son from the view of his friends. “Here,” he fished into his pocket, pulling out a few sickles, “it’s not much, but if you kids want some candy or ice cream, there should be enough.”  
  
Remus hugged both his parents before trailing behind the Potters and Peter out the back door of the pub.  
  
The small gang was halfway down the street before they spotted Sirius weaving his way through the milling crowd, dragging another boy behind him. Much like James and Branwen, there was no mistaking the family resemblance.  
  
When Sirius saw his friends, he dropped the boy’s hand and ran over, nearly knocking James to the ground as he threw an arm around his neck. “Thank Godric! I swear to Merlin, if I had to put up with my family one more day….!”  
  
“Who’s this?” Remus nodded toward the small boy, who was trotting up.  
  
Sirius rolled his eyes. “This is my little brother, Regulus. This is going to be his first year at Hogwarts.”  
  
“Mine too!” Branwen squealed. “I’m so excited!”  
  
Regulus ignored her. He tugged on his brother’s sleeve, then whispered something in his ear. Branwen thought she heard the words “muggle-born” and “half-blood.” Whatever it was, when Sirius heard it his eyes narrowed and he shoved his brother’s arm away. “Sod off! These are my friends! If you’re going to say stuff like that, you can go hang out with Mum.”  
  
Regulus frowned, but said nothing else.  
  
“Good.” Sirius nodded. “Now,” he rubbed his hands together, “what should we hit up first? Florean’s? Gambol and Japes? Sugarplums?”  
  
“None of those sell school supplies, Sirius,” Remus rolled his eyes.  
  
“Well, Reg and I are done with our shopping. We got here a few days ago.”  
  
“What!” James’ eyes widened behind his square-rimmed glasses. “But we’ve been here too! How come we never saw you?”  
  
“Mum wouldn’t let us out of the suite. She had Kreacher do all the shopping. It’s been so booooring.”  
  
“Well, I still have to get my stuff,” Peter whined.  
  
“I have everything but my wand,” Branwen added.  
  
“Reg is going to need one of those too,” Sirius rubbed his chin. “I guess we can all go to Ollivander’s together.”  
  
So the six children set off down the street together.  
  
“Wooow.”  
  
All of them had been in the shop before, either for their own wands or those of their siblings, still, the sight of thousands of wands, each neatly packaged in long boxes and stacked rows high, was a marvel.  
  
“Ah, I’ve expecting the second Potter and Black,” Garrick Ollivander climbed down a ladder in the rear of the store, approaching them with a humourless smile. “Who’s first?”  
  
Regulus edged forward eagerly, leaning over the counter. Ollivander’s smile narrowed. “Very well, young man.” He disappeared once more among the stacks. “Ah, yes. I think….” Ollivander approached once more and held out a worn cardboard box. A short, pale wand rested on a bed of crushed velvet.  
  
Regulus’ hand was steady as he reached for it. A small spark of electricity jumped from the handle of the wand, coursing through his fingers and up his arm.  
  
“Yes, yes,” Ollivander hummed. “I thought so. Willow. Dragon heartstring. Nine and a quarter inches. Solid. I’ve sold only one other willow in past ten years. To Lily Evans.”  
  
James tripped over the sentient measuring-tape he’d been examining, and Sirius nudged Branwen in the ribs. “The girl he fancies,” he whispered.  
  
“And now you, young lady.” Regulus moved back from the counter, parting a gap through the older boys.  
  
For Branwen, Ollivander produced an armful of boxes. First was a cedar, eight inches. It provided a few small sparks, but apparently not enough for Ollivander’s liking, as he quickly exchanged it for a Dogwood, eleven and a quarter inches. This one jerked her hand around and she dropped it quickly. After a few more tries, a final box emerged.  
  
Branwen’s fingers warmed as they wrapped around the handle in a comfortable fit. She stared at it in awe.  
  
“Well, I did want to try a few, just in case, but to be honest, I’m not surprised,” Ollivander smiled, his first genuine one since they had entered. “Rowan. Unicorn hair. Supple. Ten inches even. I’ve never known a Rowan to do evil in this world. It will protect you, as long as you are faithful to it.”  
  
When the money had been plunked onto the counter, the children exited the shop in high spirits. James clapped Sirius on the back, then leaned across him to snatch the wand from his sister. “My Bon-Bon finally has a wand! Her first step to becoming a world-famous auror!”  
  
“Jamie! Give me back my wand!” Branwen leaped in the air, jostling her brother in her attempt to get the wand back. Instead of returning it, James let it tumble from his fingers. Remus leapt forward, catching it just before it hit the cobbled ground.  
  
“Here,” he handed it back to its owner with a breathless smile.  
  
“Thanks,” Branwen smiled back. Then she turned to her brother, arms crossed. “And no thanks to you, stupid. Besides, I already told you, I don’t want to be an auror.”  
  
James laughed. “What do you want to do, be a Floo sweep?”  
  
“I just want to, you know, help people.”  
  
He groaned. “If anyone but my sister had said that, I would vomit.”  
  
“What’s wrong with helping people?” Peter piped up.  
  
Sirius joined in, “It’s just not very cool, you know. I mean, where’s the glory? The money? The ladies?” He winked. “Am I right, Reg? Reg? Regulus!” Every head began to swivel as Sirius called his brother’s name again. He slapped a hand to his forehead. “My mum is going to kill me! My only job today was not to lose my brother!”  
  
“I’m sure it’s not that bad. We’ll just split up and look for him.”  
  
“No, you don’t understand, mate,” Sirius grabbed James by the front of his robes, “my mum will actually kill me. Regulus is her favourite. He – ”  
  
“Isn’t that him?” Remus pointed to a knot of teenagers making their way down the opposite side of the street. Regulus easily stuck out as the smallest of the bunch.  
  
“Merlin’s balls. He’s with my cousins.”  
  
“You don’t get along with them?” Branwen asked.  
  
Sirius shook his head. “You wouldn’t either. Come on.”  
  
They trotted off behind him, making their way to the group of teens. There were two girls: a bright-eyed witch whose bushy black hair rivalled James’ for untidiness and a pale young witch with a serene expression. A tall blond wizard was holding hands with the younger sister.  
  
“Oi! Reg! What did mum tell you about staying with me?”  
  
“Sod off, Siri! I’m with Cissy and Bella. I was just showing them my new wand.”  
  
“Willow.” The blond boy spoke. “Not quite as elegant as Elm,” he brandished his own, “but acceptable. Regulus will make an excellent addition to Slytherin House.”  
  
“Shut up, Lucius!”Sirius grabbed his younger brother by the arm. “Reg can be in any House he wants.”  
  
“I want to be in Slytherin!” Regulus shoved his brother back and ran to stand between the girls. “Cissy and Bella will take me back to mum. You go off with your stupid half-blood friends.”  
  
Sirius and the others stared as the Black cousins turned and continued down the street with their new member in tow. “Sorry about that, guys,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “He – he’s just not able to stand up to mum, you know? She expects a lot from him.”  
  
“It’s all right,” James patted him on the back. “Hey, I’ve still got pocket money. Let’s head to Gambol and Jakes and stock up!”  
  
The rest of the day was spent in unabashed merriment. Stock piles of joke toys and candies were added to the pockets of the five friends. Sirius and Remus had to rejoin their parents that night, but Peter, James, and Branwen stayed up late, eating much more of the candy than they had intended and dreaming up plans for the next school year.  
  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The five friends were reunited the next morning on Platform 9¾.  
  
“Be safe, dear.” Mr. and Mrs. Lupin squeezed their son tightly.  
  
Mrs. Black gave Regulus a short, formal grasp of the shoulders, then turned to her older boy. “Try not to disappoint us any more than you already have.”  
  
Branwen and all the boys received warm, tight hugs from Mr. and Mrs. Potter before they noisily climbed onto the train and secured themselves a compartment near the rear.  
  
“I forgot to ask, Branwen, what House do you think you’ll be in?” Remus asked as he helped her heave her trunk into the luggage rack above their heads.  
  
James bounced on to the seat beside his sister, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “What a dumb question, Remus. Potters are always in Gryffindor.”  
  
“Yeah, but Blacks are always in Slytherin,” Peter smirked.  
  
Sirius sat beside him and punched his arm. “Shut up.”  
  
“What does he mean?”  
  
Remus sat between the wall and Peter, across from Branwen. “Sirius’ family have always been in Slytherin. That’s what that row was about with his cousins yesterday. And that guy Lucius. He’s a Prefect for Slytherin. Sirius here is the first Black to be in Gryffindor. Or any House other than Slytherin really.”  
  
Branwen smiled. “That’s awesome, Sirius!”  
  
Sirius’ face was screwed up in fierce determination, ready to combat any rude remarks about his deviation from tradition. But his expression softened in surprise when he heard her comment. “Yeah, well….thanks.”  
  
“Of course. Now on to important business…any of you besides James trying out for the Quidditch team?”  
  
“Obviously!” Sirius puffed his chest out. “Can’t leave my mate up there alone, can I?”  
  
“What about you two?”  
  
Peter blanched. “No way! I never want to get on a broom again!”  
  
The boys all doubled over in laughter. “No else one wants you to either, Pete,” James was wiping tears from his eyes. “Not after you got three feet in the air and vomited all over Madam Hooch!”  
  
Branwen laughed then turned to Remus while Peter blushed into his hands and the other boys slapped him on the back. “Are trying out, Remus?”  
  
“Nah,” he shook his head, his fringe of tawny hair sweeping across his brow. “I think I’m more comfortable on the ground.”  
  
“Remus is a pansy too, but at least he’s not a puking pansy.” Sirius sent himself and James into roiling giggles again.  
  
Their laughter spilled into the corridor as the door slid open and the stooped trolley witch paused with a smile. “Anything from the trolley, dears?”  
  
“Five of everything!” James leapt up, tripping when Sirius stuck his foot out, smashing headlong into the trolley.  
  
“James!” Branwen jumped up, helping her brother back to his feet. “You can’t go buying that many sweets! Mum said that money was for necessities.”  
  
“Are you saying candy isn’t a necessity?”  
  
The trolley witch glanced at each of the small faces in front of her. “So, will that be….?”  
  
James sighed. “Five chocolates frogs, five pumpkin pasties, and five boxes of Every Flavour Bean.” He and the witch were exchanging coins and candy when Branwen’s face lit up. “Oh! I just remembered!”  
  
She leapt onto her seat and began to rummage through her bags in the rack above. “My dad took me to some Muggle shops over the holiday. Weird stuff they have there,” she spoke over shoulder. “Anyway, I found that space candy you like, Remus.” She finally plopped back down, face flushed, and held out a brown paper bag. It was bulging with candy bars, the corners of some poking their way through the paper.  
  
Remus’ eyes widened and his face turned a shade pinker. He took the bag and fished out one of its contents, a large-sized Mars Bar. “Th-thanks, Branwen.”  
  
“I want one!” Sirius grabbed the bag and started passing them out among his friends.  
  
“Sirius! Those are for Remus!” Branwen jumped up to snatch the bag from his hands, but he held it out of reach.  
  
“Why? You fancy our Remus? Getting special candies just for him,” he sneered.  
  
Branwen paled, her eyes narrowing. “I said, give them back!”  
  
“Oi!” James jumped up, grabbed the bag, and shoved Sirius back in one move. “Lay off my sister, mate.” He handed the bag back to Remus and threw an arm around Branwen. An uncomfortable silence settled over the five.  
  
“These are pretty good,” Peter mumbled, his mouth full of the Mars Bar Sirius had passed him. Remus chuckled a little and the tension broke, an atmosphere of camaraderie descending on them once more. Before they knew, Hogsmeade station came into sight.


	6. The Sorting

Branwen was forced to peel off from the boys as she was herded with the first years to the waiting boats. When they arrived at the castle (oohing and awing) they were left to mill in a disjointed group outside a small door on the other side of which they could hear loud laughter, benches scraping, and footsteps pattering up and down. Branwen’s stomach began to growl at the thought of the feast that would follow her sorting.  
  
Trying to distract herself, she glanced around for any familiar faces. Standing on tiptoes she spotted Regulus Black near the front of the crowd. She smiled and waved. He nodded, then turned back toward the door, squaring his shoulders.  
  
A short, round-faced girl with a wide smile bumped into Branwen. “Oh sorry!” She held out a small chubby hand. “My name’s Alice. Alice Farless.”  
  
“Nice to meet you. I’m Branwen Potter. You can call me Bran.”  
  
“Do you know what House you want to be in?” She was practically bouncing with excitement.  
  
Branwen shrugged. “I’ll probably end up in Gryffindor with my brother.”  
  
“Ooh, that’s what I want! Who’s your brother?”  
  
“James Potter.”  
  
“Oh, yeah. My cousin Marlene is in his year. She said he seems like a nice guy. Well, good luck!” Alice’s voice had dropped to a whisper as a tall, stern-faced witch strode up the stairs and waded through the eleven year-olds to stand in front of the door.  
  
“Good evening, students. My name is Professor McGonagall. In just a moment, we will enter the Great Hall and begin the Sorting ceremony. You will line up in an orderly fashion and approach the stool when called. Once the Hat has determined your House, you will join them at the appropriate table and the feast will begin. Be sure to stay in line and follow your Prefects exactly. And good luck.” A thin smile reached her eyes behind sparkling square-rimmed glasses.  
  
James had written about it in his letters and her parents had both described it in great detail, but Branwen still found herself awestruck at the splendour of the Great Hall. The ceiling was bewitched to mirror the sky above, right now a dazzling blanket of constellations. The stars were joined by hundreds of candles floating above the heads of the students who were divided among four long tables.  
  
The loud chattering and laughing died down almost immediately as the first years entered and were led to the front of the Hall. The older students leaned over the heads of their friends, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the tiny new students who might end up, for better or worse, joining their House.  
  
Branwen knew she would be near the end of the line, so she contented herself with watching the others before her.  
  
“Black, Regulus.” Professor McGonagall called the first name. Branwen could see Sirius rise from his seat at the Gryffindor table. The Hat was on for mere seconds, before yelling, “Slytherin!”  
  
Sirius slumped back down and Remus patted him on the back as Regulus strode proudly toward his cousin Narcissa and her boyfriend at the Slytherin table.  
  
Two more students were sorted (Burbage, Charity and Dupree, Alore, both into Hufflepuff) before Branwen’s new friend, Farless, Alice became the first Gryffindor of the night. There was a maddening burst of noise from the red-draped table.  
  
More students came and went. Two more each for Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, three for Slytherin, and another for Hufflepuff. Finally, it was Branwen’s turn.  
  
She tried not to stare in the direction of her brother and his friends, but already they were leaning on the table, eager grins on all their faces. She settled herself on the stool and waited patiently as the Hat fell over her eyes, plunging her into darkness.  
  
“Hmm, another Potter, eh?” The Hat’s voice echoed around her head. “Not Slytherin, that’s for sure,” she smiled, “nor the wit for Ravenclaw,” she frowned. “Ah, I see a great deal of loyalty here. A second child, always working hard to live up to the first, but not proud, no, rather kind and noble. You would find a great many peers in Hufflepuff. But, what’s this? Do I sense disappointment?”  
  
Branwen tilted her head back far enough that she could see James, Sirius, Remus and Peter. “Ah, the one’s you are loyal to are in another House?” the Hat chuckled. “Very well then….Gryffindor!”  
  
The noise was deafening. James scrambled onto the table and was letting loose a barrage of tiny firecrackers that sent red and gold sparks spiralling around the room. Sirius was stood on the bench whistling and clanging together his plate and goblet. Remus and Peter, though slightly more reserved, were nonetheless jumping and clapping with excitement. “That’s my sister!” James shouted as she approached the table. He jumped down, tackling her to the ground in a crushing hug.  
  
“Mr. Potter!” The shrill voice of Professor McGonagall rose above the din. “You will sit down now and allow the Sorting to proceed unless you wish have points taken from Gryffindor before the year has even started!”  
  
James obeyed, but the rest of the Sorting was rather a blur as the boys kept whispering their congratulations to Branwen, joined by their older Gryffindor friends, Frank Longbottom and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and her new friend Alice.


	7. No Homework Allowed

Branwen’s first week went by in a near blur. The heavy course schedule of Astronomy, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, History of Magic, Potions, and Transfiguration was far from the leisurely tutoring she enjoyed at home. After Friday’s evening meal, she was finally able to collapse beside her brother and friends on a sofa in the Gryffindor common room.  
  
“Well, my little Bon-Bon,” James threw an arm around her shoulders, “how was your first week with the big kids?”  
  
“It was fun, but tiring,” she rested her head on his shoulder. “I really like Potions and Herbology, but History of Magic is dull, and Charms is hard.”  
  
“You like Potions?” Sirius was incredulous. “Are you sure you’re a Potter? That class is the worst.”  
  
Remus rolled his eyes. “You’re just saying that because Snape is top of the class and you hate him.”  
  
“Exactly!” Sirius snapped.  
  
Branwen sighed again. “Well, I suppose I should get started on my History essay. Binns already wants a foot of parchment on the Goblin Riots. As if anyone cares what happened that long ago.”  
  
“Ah-ah-ah,” Sirius snatched the parchment and quill from her hands. “No homework is allowed to happen on Fridays.”  
  
“Fridays are for planning,” Peter grinned.  
  
Branwen looked shocked. “You expect me to believe you four actually plan your homework out a week ahead of time?”  
  
The boys burst into laughter. “Good one, Bon-Bon. No, Fridays are for planning pranks.”  
  
Remus whipped a large, square piece of parchment from his bag. In his tidy handwriting was a neatly divided calendar with a pair of columns to the side entitled “Supplies” and “Tactics”. The heading “Brainstorms,” at the bottom of the page, was still in Remus’ writing, but the scrawls beneath were obviously the work of his messier friends.  
  
“Now,” James drew himself up and continued in an authoritative tone, “we typically give everyone the first week of the term off.”  
  
Sirius leaned in. “Gives them a false sense of security,” he winked.  
  
“We have several ideas written here, all of them very good, but I came up with what I think will be the best. McGonagall showed us this week in Transfiguration.” James pulled a shiny black beetle from his robe pocket. Branwen shuddered to think how he had obtained it and how long it had been in there. He waved his wand and tapped the shiny outer shell of the insect. The bug’s oblong body snapped into a round shape, a perfectly formed button.  
  
“Woah!” Branwen exclaimed. “But, uh, where’s the prank value? Seems like a button is actually something useful.”  
  
“Ah, my young friend,” Sirius threw an arm around her shoulder, “one button may be harmless. But imagine hundreds, nay, thousands of these shiny buttons, all lined up and down the Slytherin table. And at just the precise moment….”  
  
“They turn back into beetles!” James shouted. Another tap of his wand sent the button crawling away in its beetle form once more. Peter grimaced and pulled back as the beetle trundled in his direction.  
  
“Where are you going to get thousands of beetles? Or even thousands of buttons for that matter.”  
  
Remus took out his wand this time and tapped the beetle now crawling up Peter’s sneaker. “Geminio!” The bug split into two and Peter leapt up shaking and jumping around.  
  
“Nice!” Branwen grinned. “When do we start?”  
  
“We’re going to have to wait until Monday morning….”  
  
“….for maximum casualties.”  
  
“Weekends are too unpredictable with people sleeping in and such.”  
  
James, Sirius, and Remus explained as Peter threw himself back into the nearest armchair.  
  
Branwen clapped approval. “I can’t wait!”  
  
“Yes,” James nodded, an air of solemnity returning to his face, “but the real matter that remains to be settled is our first big prank.” He used his wand to point to the “Ideas” section of the parchment. “Here we have several to choose from. First, simultaneously flooding all the toilets to create an enormous tidal wave through the Great Hall. Or there’s releasing Nifflers into the Professors’ room. And lastly, the Imperturbable Charm.”  
  
Sirius’ hand shot up so fast he nearly threw himself to the floor. “I vote on Imperturbable!”  
  
“What’s that?” Branwen leaned forward in excitement.  
  
“It’s a type of shield charm,” Remus reached back into his bag and pulled out his Charms textbook. “It’s rather difficult, but I think if we practice for a little while, we should be able to pull it off.”  
  
“And what do we do with that?”  
  
“The idea,” James said, “is to go around and put it on all the doors in castle.”  
  
Sirius grinned. “No one will be able to get in or out!”  
  
Peter finally sat up, having brushed off the second beetle. “It’s brilliant!”  
  
“When are we going to do that one?”  
  
“Probably a couple of weeks,” James answered, “After our first prank, the longer we wait, the more on edge everyone will be. And it’ll give us time to serve our detentions from the first one.”  
  
“You guys actually plan on getting detention!”  
  
“Not every time,” Sirius rolled his eyes.  
  
“Ugh,” Branwen’s shoulders sagged and her head dropped into her hands.  
  
“Put it out of your mind, Bon-Bon. Tomorrow might be the last good day of summer. We’re going to spend it swimming and not thinking at all about school!”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

True to James’ word, the five friends stumbled down for a late breakfast in the Great Hall before tossing on their bathing suits and racing each other to the shores of the Black Lake. Only four of them ran splashing into the chilly waters though. Remus, still dressed in a button up shirt and pants, found a dry patch of ground, high enough to avoid the splash zone created by his friends. He fished a book from his bag and settled back against the trunk of a tree.  
  
When Branwen surfaced from her dive, she paused when she noticing the absence of her friend. James took the opportunity to dunk his sister back under the water. She wriggled from his grasp and, taking a deep breath, swam until she reached the shore.  
  
“Hi, Remus,” she smiled. “Aren’t you going to swim?”  
  
“Um. No, I, um, don’t know how.” He bit his lip and glanced away.  
  
“I can teach you! James and I have been swimming forever. We have a pool in our house, you know.”  
  
Remus ducked his head, a fringe of sandy hair falling over his eyes. “Ah, no thanks. I’m not a fan of….uh, of being – wet.” He sighed and rolled his eyes at his own lame excuse.  
  
“Oh, okay.”  
  
He waited to hear a splash as she entered the water again, but instead he heard footsteps coming closer. Branwen threw down a towel and settled next to him, hugging her knees to her chest. “What are you reading?”  
  
“It’s called The Hobbit. It’s a Muggle book.”  
  
“What’s it about?”  
  
“Magic, I guess. But not real magic, magic like Muggles think it is.”  
  
“That sounds neat. May I read it after you?”  
  
He finally met her gaze. Her long black hair was hanging in wet tendrils around her face, her blue eyes subdued under the shade of the tree. The same tree cast a shadow over his own face, camouflaging the pink stripes that marred his countenance. She leaned forward, a look of genuine interest on her smiling face.  
  
“Um, sure,” he answered. “There’s a trilogy that comes after. The Lord of the Rings. I haven’t read them yet, but my mum and dad gave me the set for my birthday. You can read them after me if you want.”  
  
A sudden screech interrupted the friends, whipping their attention back to the lake. The red-headed Lily Evans was screaming and kicking water at James while Sirius and Peter did their best to dunk Severus Snape beneath the water.  
  
“James! You stop that right now!” Branwen jumped up, balling her hands into fists. She started to run off, then quickly turned back. “I’d love to read those books, Rem. Thank you.” She leaned in and planted a lake-wet kiss on his cheek before dashing off once more to attempt a truce between the warring parties.


	8. Operation: BugFest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have taken some liberties with the Geminio/BettleButton spells, but I hope I will be forgiven for the sake of a bit of humour :)

Sunday was spent in the library. Remus and Branwen diligently pored over their homework while James and Sirius mostly fought aerial battles with paper birds. Peter alternated copying from Remus’ work and cheering on James’ avian pilots. When shadows finally claimed the whole of the library, James stood and stretched his arms above his head. “All right. Time to implement Stage 1 of Operation: BugFest.”  
  
“Just to be clear, I never agreed on that name,” Remus scrambled to stuff his supplies into his bag and catch up with his friends.  
  
When they entered the common room, a number of students were still hanging about. Those who had finished their homework were playing Exploding Snaps or wizard chess. In one corner, Lily and Marlene were painting each other’s nails with polish that sparkled whenever they moved their fingers. Other students, like Frank Longbottom, were furiously scribbling out the remainder of essays due the next day. Branwen and the boys cut through the room and headed straight for their dorm.  
  
“Wait, I can’t go up there,” Branwen whispered. “When Lily tried to sneak Severus up into the girls’ dorm, the stairs turned into a slide.”  
  
“Evans snuck who up?!” James, already halfway up the stairs, came clambering back down.  
  
“Forget about it, mate,”Sirius grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled him back up. “Stay down there, Bran,” he said over his shoulder.  
  
She looked around to see if anyone was paying attention, but everyone in the room was too absorbed in their own activities to care about the group of younger students. She thought she saw Lily glance their way, but her eyes were soon back on Marlene’s blue nails.  
  
James and Sirius positioned themselves at the top landing, while Remus and Peter stayed behind. “Ready, lads?”  
  
As one they quietly chanted, “Wingardium leviosa!” Branwen found herself rising from the ground, then zipping up the dark stairwell. She landed with a thud on top of her brother. Remus and Peter came running up behind. “Did it work?” Peter puffed.  
  
“No, mate, she’s still down there,” Sirius rolled his eyes. “Now,” he crawled across the floor, reaching under his four-poster bed, “James and I caught these five beetles yesterday; one for each of us. Just turn it into a button, then replicate it a bunch of times. Then we’ll set them at the table tonight so they’ll be ready for the morning.”  
  
James suddenly grinned. “I nominate Branwen to put them on the table.”  
  
“James, no,” Remus said in a low voice. “That’s the most dangerous part. You know that whoever’s caught at the scene of the crime is most likely to get punished.”  
  
“It will be sort of an initiation, then,” James waved his hand carelessly.  
  
Branwen leaned forward. “I’ll do it. But I want to use Dad’s cloak.”  
  
“No way! That makes it too easy! You have do it the hard way if you want to be one of us.” He frowned and crossed his arms, Sirius and Peter following suit. Remus seemed to have been suddenly captivated by a particularly ordinary looking whorl in the grain of the wood floor. “Well, it’s three to one,” James said. “No cloak.”

  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was long past midnight when the seven baskets were nearly overflowing. Peter was already snoring from his bed, and Sirius’ wand dangled from his fingers as he yawned and rubbed his eyes. Remus was still tapping buttons, but now had a book balanced in his other hand.  
  
“Is this enough yet?” Branwen groaned.  
  
“Yes!” James, though bleary-eyed, managed an enthusiastic fist pump. “This’ll show them.”  
  
“Woo,” Sirius grunted as his wand slipped from his hand. “I’m going to bed. Good luck with all that, Branwen.” He dragged himself up and crawled under his covers.  
  
“’Night, Bon-Bon,” James shuffled toward the bathroom.  
  
Once the door was shut, Remus looked up from his book. “Psst. Branwen.”  
  
She glanced up from where she was stacking the baskets. “Hmm?”  
  
He dropped the book and lifted the skirt around his bed. “Get under here.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” She crawled over on all fours.  
  
“James sleeps with the cloak under his pillow. If you wait under here, I’ll give you a signal when he’s asleep. Trust me, you won’t get caught if you’re using the cloak.”  
  
Branwen’s face lit up. “Thanks Rem!”  
  
As James’ shadow approached the threshold of the bathroom door, she shimmied under the bed. Remus shoved the button baskets in after her and dropped the skirt just as the door opened. “Bran go to bed?” James mumbled.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“M’kay. G’night Remus.”  
  
“Night, James.”  
  
Branwen felt the top of her hiding place dip down as Remus climbed onto his bed above her. A second later, everything went dark. The warm rug under the bed was surprisingly comfortable and she nearly drifted off waiting for Remus’ signal. She woke with a start when his wand poked under the bed, alight with the Lumos spell.  
  
They were silent as Branwen wiggled out from the bed. Remus held his wand aloft, lighting her way as she crept to her brother’s bed, slid her hand beneath the pillow, and pulled out the silvery cloak. She gave Remus a thumbs-up.  
  
Draping the cloak over her shoulder, she gathered up the baskets and ran to the stairwell. It turned into a slide as soon as her foot touched the top stair and she let out a quiet gasp. Remus jumped out of bed and pointed his wand down the stairwell. “Are you okay?” he shouted in a whisper.  
  
“Yes. Goodnight Remus! And thank you!”  
  
He sighed, returned to his bed, and extinguished his wand.

  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite her late night and fitful sleep, Branwen was up before dawn. Balancing all the baskets and managing to keep the Invisibility Cloak draped over herself, she crept into the Great Hall. The ceiling-sky was a pearl grey, lending a soft, misty light to the empty interior. It was an odd sensation to see those long wooden tables vacant. It was like seeing an empty train station or church hall; it had a lingering sense of needing to be filled.  
  
She shuffled slowly, willing her footsteps not to echo on the flagstone floor. Moving at this meticulous speed, she set the baskets in intervals on the table beneath the green, serpent banners.  
  
She then quickly made her way back to her dorm room so that Alice could see her getting out of bed (and possibly vouch for her later). The two girls joined up with James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter on the way to breakfast. “Did you do it?” James whispered.  
  
She nodded, winking at Remus when her brother’s head turned.  
  
It was obvious that Branwen had succeeded when they entered the Great Hall and saw the buttons flooding the Slytherin table. Some of the students were picking them up and turning them over curiously, but the majority simply ignored them, too tired or too caught up in last minute homework to care about the odd addition to their breakfast spread.  
  
All five Gryffindor friends sat on the same side of the table, waiting for James’ cue to act.  
  
Finally, Lucius Malfoy approached, grabbed up a handful of buttons, and allowed them to slide through his fingers. James whispered, “Now!”  
  
In a flash, the entire Slytherin table was crawling with shiny black beetles. Students jumped up screaming and performed what appeared to be outlandish dance moves in their attempt to rid themselves of the bugs. Lucius’ hand jerked away from the nest of bugs, but one of them went flying into Narcissa’s hair and she let out the loudest scream of them all. Severus Snape only arched a brow as one of the insects began swimming in his goblet.  
  
Only Regulus, his fist clenched around his fork, realised where the chaos had originated. He glared at his brother and his friends, all of whom were desperately trying to laugh only the appropriate amount and not the gut-busting roars they were holding in.


	9. Minus One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that Sirius is never mentioned playing Quidditch in canon, but I just loved the idea of him flying around protecting his bro James from the Bludgers and other players :)

That next Friday found Remus, Peter, and Branwen in the stands of the Quidditch pitch, ready to cheer on James and Sirius in their try-out. Sixth year Chaser Bailey Fairchild was the newly appointed Captain for the Gryffindor team. She had to fill spots for one more Chaser and two Beaters after those players had graduated the previous term.  
  
A number of other students had gathered in the stands, among them Lily Evans who kept fidgeting where she sat beside a sulking Severus whose hooked nose was buried in a Potions textbook. James took notice of the red-haired girl and started swooping over the bleachers. He paused every time he tossed the Quaffle to Sirius to flex what little muscle he had.  
  
Ignoring her brother’s macho (and ultimately futile) behaviour, Branwen stood and waved two tiny, red-and-gold Gryffindor flags. “Go James! Go Sirius!”  
  
They performed one final warm-up lap, then settled down in earnest to try and impress the captain.  
  
When Branwen sat back down between her friends, Remus pulled out a worn notebook. He flipped through pages of scribbles and doodles. “Okay, so we should probably go over the wand movement again for this week’s prank. Peter, you really need to – ”  
  
“Remus. Shhh,” Branwen pressed a finger to his lips. “You know I’m invested in this prank as much as anyone, but right now – it’s Quidditch time.”  
  
Remus stared at her in shock even as her finger dropped back to her lap and her attention was riveted to the try-outs. “See,” she pointed at the player soaring highest above the pitch, “that’s what I’m going to be one day. A Seeker.”  
  
“Jame i- gonna be a Chas-ur?” Peter asked around a mouthful of Bertie’s Beans.  
  
Branwen nodded. “Sirius said that’s what he’s going for as well. There’s only spot though.”  
  
James flitted about the goalposts, scoring more times than not, even over a fifth-year Keeper. Sirius, however, seemed distracted. Rather than pass the Quaffle to the other Chasers, whenever he came into possession, he would toss it over his shoulders and spin it on his index finger. Bailey flew over to him.  
  
“Guys, look,” Branwen pointed out the mid-air meeting.  
  
Remus frowned. “Is she throwing him out already?”  
  
But Bailey didn’t appear to be yelling. Instead, she handed Sirius a short, thick bat.  
  
“Merlin!” Branwen gasped. “She’s making him a Beater!”  
  
All six eyes were now glued to the air. As much as they loved their friend, the idea of Sirius flying around smashing a large metal ball seemed particularly frightening. Unsurprisingly, he was an ace at it. He hovered close to his best mate and not a single Bludger got past his watchful eye.  
  
After two hours of desperate flying by both new and seasoned players, Bailey signalled for a landing. “Good effort from everyone,” she praised. “The results will be posted in the common room before the weekend’s over. Everyone who makes it will expected to participate in evening practices three times a week and come to every game, so make sure you’re ready to commit if you’re chosen. Now get some rest.”  
  
Branwen ran down to the field to hug her brother. “Good job! You’ll be on the team for sure!”

“Woohoo!” As soon as Branwen saw her brother in the Great Hall on Monday morning, she stood and released a burst of confetti from her wand tip. “All hail the newest and best members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team! James Potter and Sirius Black!”  
  
A number of Gryffindors responded with sporadic applause. The boys puffed out their chests and strutted the length of the Hall. There were grumblings from the Slytherin table, but a few of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff girls whistled.  
  
They almost hadn’t noticed Remus run ahead of them all and load his plate with bacon and eggs. Branwen’s brows shot up when she saw him tearing into a hunk of sausage. “Hungry there, Rem?”  
  
He nodded, his mouth too full to reply.  
  
The others filled in around him. “Save some for the rest of us,” Sirius laughed.  
  
Remus glared at him, then swallowed hard. “Don’t forget, tonight we meet to practice the spell one more time. Everything has to be ready by Friday.”  
  
“We know, Remus,” Peter rolled his eyes and reached for a slice of bacon, earning himself a smack across the hand from the boy he was addressing, “You’ve told us a hundred times since yesterday.”

Branwen ran up the tower to meet the boys after classes ended on Friday. Three of them were sprawled on one of the plush red velvet sofas in the common room. She let her bag drop from her shoulder and rolled over onto James’ lap, swinging her legs onto Sirius’.  
  
“All right, Bran?” Sirius plucked at her shoelace.  
  
“Just tired. Slughorn has us brewing Wiggenweld. It’s super useful and interesting, but awfully hard to make,” she sighed, then did a quick head count. “Um, aren’t we missing someone? Where’s Remus?”  
  
James shrugged. “Said something about detention with Binns. He’ll meet up with us later.”  
  
But as the four gathered in the boys’ dorm to wait out their time playing Exploding Snaps, Remus did not show. Midnight came, the appointed hour for the plan’s execution, and they were still one member short.  
  
“But James, shouldn’t we wait – ”  
  
“He knows what we’re doing, Bran. He’ll catch up if he’s able.”  
  
“That’s just it,” she protested, “what if he’s not able? What if he’s hurt or something?”  
  
“Rem can take care of himself,” Peter laid a gentle hand on her arm.  
  
“All right, now here’s how it’ll go,” James spoke. “Bran and Peter, you two cover Ravenclaw tower and the upper floors. Sirius and I will take the cloak and get Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and the lower levels. Now, make sure you get all the class – ”  
  
“Wait a minute! Why don’t Branwen and I get the cloak?”  
  
“What’s more dangerous, Pete,” Sirius asked, “climbing some stairs or lurking around the dungeons?”  
  
“The dungeons, I guess.”  
  
“Good, then it’s settled.”  
  
All four of them used the cloak to sneak past the portrait of the Fat Lady that guarded the Gryffindor common room. She was usually asleep at this time of night, but if she did happen to wake, she wouldn’t be able to say which of the students had made their way out. Once they were out of her sight, they split up.  
  
Somehow this night was a great deal more frightening than the night of Branwen’s solo prank. Maybe it was the fact that she was without the cloak this time. Or that Peter jumped every five feet when they came to a suit of armour that glinted in the moonlight. Or that one of her best friends was still missing, somewhere in the dark castle. She gulped and tried to summon some Gryffindor courage.  
  
The night seemed to drag on. Without the cloak, they had to move mere feet at a time, avoiding snoring portraits and patrolling Prefects. They were impeded even further by the full moon whose spotlight seemed to drive away the shadows, leaving them no where to hide.  
  
When their wand arms were sore from waving at door after door, Branwen and Peter finally descended to the Great Hall.  
  
“What took you so long?” Sirius threw off the cloak and Branwen had to bit her own hand to keep from yelping in surprise.  
  
“Knock it off, mate,” James appeared as well, now holding the cloak. “How did it go?” he asked his sister.  
  
“Fine. And it took us so long because we didn’t have the advantage of being invisible.” She stared pointedly at Sirius. “All we had was our wits.”  
  
“How very Ravenclaw of you.”  
  
“Guys, we should really hurry up,” Peter tugged on James’ sleeve and pointed at the ceiling-sky, which was lightening ever so slightly.  
  
“All right. Wands up. Protego!” A shimmer was cast from all four wands, forming a transparent barrier over the two large oak doors. “Good job. Now let’s head back.”  
  
The route back to the common room was much easier for Peter and Branwen with the cover of the cloak. They entered, then stood back as James performed the spell on the common room door. Remus had suggested this final measure during their last planning session in order to avoid suspicion being cast on someone from their House. Though she was excited to see the results of their mischief the next morning, the thought of Remus’ absence sent Branwen to bed with a heavy heart.


	10. The Disappearances of Remus Lupin

Operation: No Way Out (as James had dubbed it) was an unmitigated success. All around the castle students were crashing into invisible barriers. Professors weren’t spared either. Slughorn was knocked back several feet when he tried to stride into his classroom for weekend grading. Head Boys and Girls stormed about, angry that the blockage to their private toilets delayed their morning routines; Lucius Malfoy’s hair was noticeably mussed throughout the day. Even though it was a simple spell to reverse, Professor Flitwick enjoyed a chuckled as he pretended to have difficulty releasing the Great Hall.  
  
James, Sirius, and Peter revelled in their success and especially in that fact that, so far, they had evaded punishment. As it was a drizzling Saturday, they took off for a romp around the castle. Taking advantage of the chaos, they decide to sneak about replacing several of their charms around unsuspecting Slytherins.  
  
Branwen though, found it hard to enjoy their success. One of her friends was still missing. She didn’t know what to do about Remus, other than visit their usual haunts, both hoping and dreading to find him. She felt that no matter where he was, the reason for his absence couldn’t be a good one. She prowled the dark corners of the library to no avail. Throwing a heavy cloak on, she scoured the Quidditch pitch and the shores of the Black Lake. He was no where to be found.  
  
She returned to the common room and was beginning to consider alerting McGonagall when the portrait door swung open. Remus stumbled in, supporting himself on one side with a crutch.  
  
“Remus!” Thankfully he had made his way far enough into the room so that he collapsed into an overstuffed armchair when Branwen threw herself at him. “Where have you been?”  
  
“The hospital wing,” he replied, “I, uh, fell down some stairs.”  
  
“And you couldn’t have sent word to us?” Branwen leaned back. When she realised that she was squashing his bruised body, she slipped to the floor beside him. “I was so worried.”  
  
He glanced away, a light pink dusting his cheeks. “I guess the others didn’t mind too much though.”  
  
“They’re boys,” she waved it off. “No offence but you lot aren’t always the most sensitive.”  
  
He changed the subject. “I saw that the prank worked. Students were coming into the hospital with bruises and headaches all day.”  
  
“Yeah. You should have seen everyone in here trying to get out. Ross Epworth nearly broke his toes kicking at the door.” They laughed and discussed the various victims of their prank until the other boys came traipsing in, registering only mild surprise at finding Remus back among their company.

  


It happened the next month as well. Remus had been getting the group hyped for the Hogwarts Halloween Costume Contest, but on the day they had set aside to plan costumes, he was absent. He reappeared two days later, this time with his arm in a sling.  
  
Branwen eyed him suspiciously, her arms crossed. “Fall down another set of stairs, did we?”  
  
He could only shrug while avoiding her eye.

  


In November, he missed nearly a week of classes and, when questioned, mumbled something about his mother being ill. Branwen didn’t believe him for a minute and she was ready to go to a higher authority.

  


When Herbology let out on the first frosty day of December, Branwen pulled Alice aside. “Take notes for me in Charms, will you? I’m going to be a little late.”  
  
Alice raised a brow, but when she received no explanation, she simply nodded and ran to catch up with the crowd of other first year Gryffindors.  
  
Professor Sprout was using a sweeping spell on the greenhouse to gather up the potting soil the students had spilled when she spotted Branwen hovering by the door. “Don’t you have a class to get to, Miss Potter?”  
  
“Yes, but, Professor, may I ask a question please?”  
  
“Of course, dear,” the stout woman flicked her wand to shut the door against the cold, then smiled warmly.  
  
“Well, you know a lot about illnesses, right?”  
  
“Not as much as Madam Pomfrey, I’m afraid. If you are ill, I suggest finding her.”  
  
“No, no. It’s not me, it’s….a friend of mine.”  
  
“Well I’m afraid Madam Pomfrey is still the one to ask.”  
  
Branwen fidgeted with the bookmark sticking out of her Charms textbook. “I know, it’s just that….you’ve been really helpful to me, so I was hoping I could trust you. It’s rather confidential, you see.”  
  
Sprout frowned. “Very well, dear. Let’s come out with it then.”  
  
“I just wanted to know, well, is there a disease that would make you sick once a month? Every month?”  
  
Sprout was clearly unsettled by the question and began sweeping soil again, this time by hand. “Well, you see, dear, as you become a young lady and your body changes, there will come a time….”  
  
Branwen’s brows rose in shock. “No, no, no. I mean, my mother told me all about that. Besides, this friend of mine is a boy.”  
  
“Oh. Well, then.” Relieved, Sprout reflected on the question for a moment. “I can’t really think of anything else, dear,” she laughed, “unless your friend is a lycanthrope, of course.”  
  
“What’s a lycanthrope, ma’am?”  
  
“It’s a werewolf, dear.”  
  
“Oh, okay. Thank you, Professor.”  
  
“I wish I could have been of more help.”  
  
“That’s alright. Thank you.”  
  
Sprout resumed her cleaning as Branwen swept out into what had become a biting wind. Fat, wet flakes swirled around, peppering her hair and eyelashes. Her toes were almost instantly numb, but the closer she got to the castle, the slower her steps became.  
  
A werewolf? It couldn’t be. The image of the snarling figure on the cover of the Ministry pamphlet filled her mind. Her sweet friend who lent her his books and let Peter win at Gobstones couldn’t possibly have anything in common with such a monster. But….  
  
She hoped Alice would take really good notes. She wasn’t going to Charms or any of her other classes today.


	11. I Know What You Are

Over the next several days, Branwen spent every spare moment in the library. She ran out early on meals and dropped in between classes. She pored over every book that contained even a passing mention of werewolves. There weren’t many, so she took to reading the same ones again and again, memorising every page. She didn’t dare bring any of them out of the library though; she couldn’t risk someone finding her with one and questioning her sudden interest in these bizarre creatures.  
  
On the second week of December, Professor McGonagall paid a visit to the Gryffindor common room to pass out a sign-up sheet for students who would be staying at the school over the holidays. Branwen watched through narrowed eyes as Remus accepted the clipboard and signed his name. Stalking over, she snatched it from his hand and wrote her name beneath his.  
  
James’ eyes widened. “You’re staying, Bran? You’re skipping Mum’s Christmas dinner?”  
  
“I’m staying too, mate,” Sirius shrugged and accepted the sheet, signing his name as well. “Anything to avoid spending another minute with my mother and the rest of my horrid family.”  
  
“Fine,” James rolled his eyes and scribbled his name down. He passed it to Peter, who shook his head. “Sorry. My gran and gramp are going to be there and my mum makes the best plum pudding.” He passed the list on to a group of fourth years and it continued its way around the room.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was four days before Christmas and a crust of icy snow lay over the Hogwarts grounds. Unmarred by footsteps, the white slate reflected the glow of the full moon, turning the castle into a gleaming, silver-plated spectacle.  
  
Branwen, though, was unmoved by the picturesque scene. Alone in her dorm, she sat in the window seat, wrapped in a quilt, watching the path of the moon through the sky. She was wondering where her best friend was at the moment. She knew that by morning he would be in the hospital wing, but during the long night his whereabouts were a mystery.  
  
She made herself wait until the bell in the clock tower struck one, then she dressed herself in a warm jumper, a soft pair of corduroys, and slippers with bunny ears on them. She snatched up her school bag and the cloak she had “borrowed” from her brother earlier that day.  
  
The castle was the quietest she had ever seen. Even the ghosts seemed to have found a hidden nook to hibernate in, for she neither heard nor saw anyone on her trek to the hospital wing. Even that great room, before she entered, was resoundingly empty. The Christmas and summer holidays were the only times of the year when no one could be found in need of healing. Madam Pomfrey’s office door was shut tight and Branwen could see no light coming from beneath the threshold.  
  
She wasn’t really sure what she had expected to find. She had no way to know how early he usually arrived. Resolved to wait, Branwen settled herself into a corner, the cloak snug around her. She pulled out a paper bag full of dinner rolls she had secreted from the Great Hall and prepared herself for a long night.

The morning sun was flooding the spacious hospital room before Branwen awoke with a jerk. She cracked her neck and wiped a bit of dried drool from the corner of her mouth before turning to see what it was that had awoken her.  
  
The door to the hospital wing was swinging shut and two figures were making their way down the aisle of beds. “Almost there, love.” Branwen leaned forward. Madam Pomfrey’s arm was obscuring her patient, but she knew exactly who it was. “There, dear. Your pyjamas are on the bed. Do you need any help?”  
  
“No.” Remus’ voice was dry and cracked.  
  
“Alright then. I’ll be back in just a moment.”  
  
Even though she was invisible, Branwen ducked her head, giving her friend privacy while he changed his clothes. She noticed though, that the shirt and trousers that dropped to the ground were torn and bloody.  
  
When Madam Pomfrey returned, her arms full of potion bottles and salve jars, she pulled some heavy curtains around the bed. Branwen took this opportunity to creep closer. She could hear hisses of pain and the occasional whimper between Pomfrey’s soothing murmurs and soft ministrations.  
  
“Alright love; would you like a sleeping draught?” Remus must have shaken his head because, after a silent pause, Pomfrey continued. “All right then. I’ll come and check on you in a bit.” The curtains parted and Pomfrey disappeared into her office.  
  
Branwen waited a few moments to make sure she wasn’t coming straight back, then whispered, “Psst! Remus! It’s me. Can I come in?”  
  
“Branwen?” His voice was loud with surprise.  
  
“Shh! I’m not supposed to be here,” she hissed, drawing back the curtain and dropping the cloak.  
  
“Why are you here? How did you….What….how….”  
  
Branwen opened her mouth to answer, but any form of coherent thought fled her mind. The Remus before her looked nothing like the friend who, only two days ago, was chasing her in a game of hide-and-seek. He was pale and his breath was coming short and fast. A sheen of sweat had pasted his sandy hair to his face. She couldn’t see his body beneath the blankets, but his knuckles were purple and black with bruises and a fierce pink scrape started ran the length of his collarbone.  
  
“How did you know I would be here?”  
  
His question cut through her shock and she disappeared quickly under the curtain, then reappeared dragging a chair. Once she was seated by his bed, she reached into the bag she had brought with her. “Let’s see….” she began pulling items out, “I brought you some tea, because my mum says it cures everything. I brought a book, because my dad always reads to me when I’m feeling ill. And I brought some chocolate because, well, everyone needs chocolate.”  
  
Remus reached out and weakly grabbed her wrist as she placed the chocolates on the bed. “Branwen. How did you know?”  
  
“Know what?” she smiled innocently.  
  
There was a tense silence between them.  
  
She reached out and softly pried his fingers from her arm. “I don’t know anything you don’t want me to know, Rem.”  
  
He laid back on the pillow, his mind racing. His parents always told him that he had two choices if anyone ever found out. He could deny everything, come up with any kind of excuse, use a memory charm if he to. Or he could confess. He had never used the second option before. Then again, he had never had friends before.  
  
Tears were slowly trickling down his face. Branwen busied herself arranging her gifts on the bedside table and smoothing out his sheets, giving him time to compose himself.  
  
He swallowed thickly. “Have you….have you told anyone else?”  
  
She finally looked up and caught his eye. “No. I thought that if you wanted anyone to know, you would have told them.”  
  
“I still don’t understand….”  
  
She smiled again. “No offence, Rem, but after watching you disappear once a month every month, it was rather obvious that something was going on. James and the boys are just too oblivious to put two and two together.”  
  
“What is it you want?” his voice was hoarse. “Why are you here?”  
  
She crinkled her nose. “What you do mean? I don’t want anything. Except to help you. You’re my friend. That’s what friends do. Help each other, I mean.”  
  
The tears were flowing freely now. Branwen reached out hesitantly and swiped her small thumb across his cheek, blinking back her own tears.  
  
When the worst of the sobs seemed over, she removed her hand and reached for the thermos on the table. “Here. It’s chamomile.” She poured him a cup, still piping hot. “And, I wasn’t sure what book to bring, so I brought this.” She held up a faded, age-worn book.  
  
“The Tales of Beedle the Bard,” he smiled for the first time that night. “The Fountain of Fair Fortune is my favourite.”  
  
“Then let’s start there,” she smiled and slipped a chocolate bar into his fingers before beginning.  
  
“High on a hill in an enchanted garden, enclosed by tall walls and protected by strong magic, flowed the Fountain of Fair Fortune….”


	12. Christmas and Its Aftermath

When Remus awoke, his first thought was that he felt different – better. Better than all the other nights, all the other mornings-after. Then the crinkle of a candy wrapper beneath his fingers reminded him. He’d had a visitor, one who didn’t care what he was, one who said she wanted to help him.  
  
A feeling like a heavy stone grew in his stomach though. He could never speak to her about it again, never acknowledge what she knew to be true. To do so would risk exposing himself to more people. He knew that, even if he may be able to trust Branwen, it was no guarantee that he could trust anyone else.  
  
As a result, the next few days were awkward between the two friends. Remus avoided Branwen, lest she ask any embarrassing questions or, worse, showed any pity. She tried to understand this and gave her friend the space to open up when or if he wanted.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Christmas eased things a bit.  
  
The day didn’t so much dawn as turn from black to grey to white. Still, the residents of Gryffindor tower were in high spirits. The Hogwarts house elves had gone all out for the students who stayed for the holiday. Festoons of holly and mistletoe graced the mantle and bedposts. An enormous tree stood in one corner, draped with shimmering paper chains, fairy lights (real fairies trapped in glass jars), and bulbs that exploded into glittering confetti at random.  
  
Presents flowed out from beneath the tree like water from a spring. The vast majority were from the Potters. There were individual gifts for James and Branwen (a broom polishing kit and a handsome new set of quills and parchment) and Sirius and Remus received their own sets of Sleekeazy's hair care products. Then there were the goodies. Chocolate cauldrons, chocolate frogs, Bertie’s Beans, licorice wands, pumpkin pasties….there was enough to keep even four healthy pre-teen appetites satisfied for a week.  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Lupin made their contributions as well. A tin of Hope Lupin’s homemade chocolate chip cookies were oven-fresh, thanks to her husband’s preserving charms. She had knit scarves for each of the children as well, in Gryffindor red and gold.  
  
Sirius unwrapped the only present from the Blacks. It was a copy of Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. He promptly tossed it into the fire and his friends laughed and dug out some marshmallows to roast over the growing flames.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter and the other students returned a few days later, and classes resumed not long after. The professors wasted no time in assigning essay after essay, leaving the group little time to socialise or plan their usual pranks. Nevertheless, Remus continued to ignore Branwen.  
  
It was never obvious, never in ways that their friends would notice. Sirius didn’t say anything when Remus sat beside him at the breakfast table instead of Branwen. James thought nothing of Remus bringing his homework to the Quidditch pitch rather than his usual corner of the library. Only Peter remarked on the idea that Remus had knocked Severus Snape’s cauldron over on purpose, earning himself a detention on their only free night of the week.  
  
Despite her initial determination to give Remus some room, Branwen grew increasingly frustrated with his cold behaviour. With the next full moon quickly approaching and no sign that Remus would address the subject on his own, she she decided to make a move.  
  
It was a Sunday evening and Remus, finished with his homework as usual, was reading in a plush sofa in the common room. The other boys had gone to bed, exhausted by their last ditch efforts at their own homework. Branwen sat curled up in an armchair with The Two Towers in her hands. It was clear they were waiting each other out. Neither wanted to be the first to leave, but neither wanted to be the first to speak.  
  
The common room emptied out slowly. Branwen fought back a yawn, while Remus still seemed wide awake. It was one of the many things about her friend that made much more sense after her revelation. He was always the last to go to sleep, last to wake up in the morning. It seemed that the moon was like his sun.  
  
Eventually she nestled her bookmark between the pages and approached. Remus didn’t look up until she was seated beside him on the sofa. She reached over and pried his fingers from Great Expectations. They were quite alone by now, but still she whispered. “How did it happen?”  
  
“I thought you did your research,” he scoffed. “You know exactly how it happens.”  
  
She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t be such a moron. You know what I mean. How did it happen to you?”  
  
He gave a tight smile, then turned his gaze to the softly crackling flames in the fireplace. “I was five. Well, almost. My dad worked for the ministry and they brought in this guy, Fenrir Greyback,” he trembled as he spoke the name. “Greyback was wanted in connection to the deaths – the slaughters – of two Muggle children. My father knew he was guilty, knew what he was, but the Ministry let him go.” His voice was so low, it was as if he was speaking to himself. Branwen was silent.  
  
“When he was released, the first thing he did was find my dad. Find us. My father fought him off, but it….it was too late. You see, children are his speciality. He thinks if he can turn them young, they’ll grow up to be like him – monsters.  
  
“After that, my parents had no choice but to keep me in hiding. They homeschooled me. Moved us from town to town every time someone got suspicious.  
  
“When Dumbledore came to our house with my Hogwarts letter it was like….it was like someone opening the window, letting sunlight into the darkness.”  
  
There was a pause before Branwen whispered. “Does it hurt?”  
  
“Transforming?” he raised a brow. “Only about a hundred times worse than dying.”  
  
“I’m coming with you.” Branwen looked shocked at her own statement, but she rushed on before she could change her mind. “Next time, next moon, I’m coming with you. To help.”  
  
“No!” Remus jumped up and shouted. Branwen flinched back in her seat. “You don’t get it, do you? You think I’m some sort of – of freak! Like an animal in the zoo. The problem is, there aren’t any bars on this cage. I’d kill you soon as look at you!”  
  
“Then do it! Kill me now, instead of waiting!” She jumped up and shouted back, chin jutting out defiantly.  
  
Remus’ fingers curled and uncurled in fists; the firelight threw angry red shadows on his face.  
  
“That’s what I thought. And I’m not going to be there to gawk at you, I’m going to be there to help you. I saw what you looked liked last time Remus. It’s not going to happen again. I won’t let it.” She crossed her arms.  
  
He let out a low growl; it was like nothing she had heard before. For the first time, she saw the wolf in him. “R-Remus,” her head was still raised defiantly, but she had begun to tremble, “y-you know me. I – I’m going to come with you w-whether you like it or not.”  
  
Remus growled once more, then grabbed a small stone bust of a lion from a nearby table and flung it into the fireplace. It cracked and shattered into the spluttering flames. He shot her a final, withering glare, then ran up the stairs to his dorm.  
  
Branwen moved as if in a trance. She trudged up the steps to her dorm.  
  
“Bran?” Alice blinked when her room-mate opened the door, a shaft of light falling across her face. “Everything all right?”  
  
“Yes. Fine.” Branwen didn’t undress, but threw herself beneath the covers, closed the curtains around her bed as hard as she could, and cried herself to sleep.


	13. Rendezvous

Remus and Branwen made an effort to avoid each other for the rest of the week, which proved to be more difficult than either of them had thought. Between passing each other in halls, eating meals, and sharing a common room, there was no chance for physical distance. And thanks to James’ brilliant new plan for a prank (turning the Slytherin Prefects’ hair pink), they were forced to speak to one another, though they tried to limit their interactions to simple Yes’s and No’s.  
  
Thursday morning at the breakfast table, though, Remus’ attitude seemed to have done a complete turn. He stared almost continually at Branwen over his plate piled high with bacon, ham, sausage, and eggs. His fingers drummed on the wooden table and his leg bounced uncontrollably.  
  
“Remus,” Peter grabbed his friend by the shoulder, “you gotta stop!”  
  
“He’s right,” Sirius pointed his fork at him, “what are you all worked up about anyway? We don’t have a test today. Do we?” His hand flew to his chest in a dramatic panic.  
  
“No, Siri, no test,” James patted his shoulder. “But maybe our nervous-Nelly is just excited to see Professor Babbling again,” he winked.  
  
Branwen’s eyes widened. “Who’s she?”  
  
“James….” Remus squeezed his fork so hard it bent in his hand.  
  
But James laughed and continued, “She’s the Ancient Runes professor. That one there,” he nodded to the table at the head of the Great Hall. The witch he indicated seemed young for a professor. She was dark-skinned with polished, sweeping features and a lithe figure beneath purple-embroidered robes. “Rem ran into her in the library yesterday and now he’s trying to sell us on the idea of taking her class next year. I think – Ow!” James yelped when he received sharp kick to the shin under the table.  
  
Branwen, still upset with Remus for his behaviour during their last conversation, couldn’t understand the twinge of disappointment that bit into her chest.  
  
“Well, no Babbling this morning. Just the every-lovely, always-enchanting Professor Binns,” Sirius tossed back his goblet of pumpkin juice and the five of them rose and followed the crowd of students exiting the Hall.  
  
Before they had gone far past the doors, though, Branwen felt herself being yanked into a dark alcove. “What the – ”  
  
“Sh,” Remus held a finger to his lips. His grip on her forearm was so tight, she wondered if there would be bruises there later. He leaned down and hissed in her ear, “Meet me near the greenhouses at three o’clock.”  
  
Branwen almost wasn’t sure the incident had really happened. Remus was already racing to catch up to his friends, his robes billowing out behind him. But she smiled. Was it possible? Remus must have changed his mind. Tonight was the full moon and he was going to let her come with him.  
  
She was too excited to even attend her Potions class that afternoon, skipping class for the first time in her life. Instead of heading for the dungeons, she ran back to Gryffindor tower. In her room she grabbed a canvas bag and stuffed anything and everything she might need into it: a pillow, a blanket, a book, at least half of her snack stash. When she finished, she left wait in the shadow of Greenhouse 4 a full forty-five minutes before their appointed meeting time.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

During the time that Branwen should have been in Potions, James and the other boys were in the Astronomy Tower for their last class of the day. The panorama view provided by the classroom’s circular structure was just too much for Sirius’ attention span. He leaned back in his chair and watched anything but the professor.  
  
The castle grounds were a spotless white after the snow of the night before. An enormous black raven stood out in sharp contrast as it made a wheeling course through the sky. It flew low over the greenhouses before soaring back up toward the Forbidden Forest.  
  
Sirius’ chair dropped back the floor with a sharp rap. The professor paused a moment to give him a reproachful glare. When he turned his back on the class to resume his lecture, Sirius elbowed James in the ribs. “Mate. Isn’t that Bran?”  
  
James squinted in the direction his friend pointed. “Yeah, it is.”  
  
“What’s she doing down there?”  
  
James shrugged. “Helping Sprout with something? Would be just like her to get a note out of one class just to help with another.”  
  
A few minutes later, Remus raised his hand. His friends expected him to ask something like the clarification of the degrees needed to chart the path of Venus but, instead, he simply asked to be dismissed to use the restroom.  
  
Sirius, now more bored than ever, kept glancing back at Branwen. She had begun pacing in the snow, leaving a muddy track, but she didn’t seem to be going anywhere or doing anything of any importance. Then he saw them.  
  
Not even bothering with subtly, Sirius jabbed James as hard as he could and pointed toward the greenhouses.  
  
Peter craned his neck to see what had his friends so excited. He followed the trajectory of Sirius’ pointing finger. Two figures were shuffling through the snow away from the castle. Peter squinted. “Who is it?”  
  
“It’s Branwen! And Remus! Where the hell are they headed off to?”  
  
“Let’s find out!” Sirius jumped up.  
  
“Mr. Black!” the professor shouted. “Would you like a detention for yourself and your friends?”  
  
“Sure, but can’t make it tonight. See you at seven tomorrow?” Without waiting for a response, he and the boys began racing down the stairs. The sound of “One hundred points from Gryffindor!” echoed behind them.


	14. The Thing Inside Me

By the time the James, Sirius, and Peter reached the greenhouses, all that remained of Remus and Branwen was two pairs of footprints. The boys followed them until they disappeared in the muddy, root-corrupted ground beneath the Whomping Willow.  
  
“They climbed the tree?” Peter peered up into the bare branches.  
  
“Well do you see them there, dummy?” Sirius smacked the back of his head.  
  
“Are they using the invisibility cloak?”  
  
James pulled it out from his schoolbag.  
  
“I don’t get it. Where’d they go? What’re they doing?”  
  
“Better not be snogging is all I know,” James huffed and crossed his arms.  
  
“James, she’s eleven.”  
  
“Exactly!”  
  
An awkward silence fell. Sirius rocked back on his heels. “So, uh, what now?”  
  
James squinted into the distance. “The only other thing out this way is Hogsmeade.” He flourished the cloak over himself and held out an arm, inviting the others in.  
  
Peter whimpered. “B-but, we’re not supposed to go there. Not until next year. With a permission slip.”  
  
Sirius joined James under the cloak, then gave Peter a withering glare. “You coming or not?”  
  
Peter scurried under his waiting arm and the three of them vanished from sight.  
  
It was normally a pleasant, half hour’s walk to the nearby village, but with three boys huddled under one cloak, shuffling through ankle deep snow, it turned into a slow hour’s trek. By the time they reached the outskirts of the town, the early winter night had overtaken them.  
  
“Now where do we go?” Sirius hissed, his breath steaming into the frigid air.  
  
There was a soft glow of lantern light from the village and a few of its wizarding citizens could be seen scurrying home to warmth of their hearths. Outside the cosy limits of the small hamlet, there was no sign of life, no footprints, no noises….until.  
  
A loud, long howl rang through the sharp night air.  
  
“What was that?” Peter yelped.  
  
“It came from over there,” James pointed at a derelict building resting past the village’s edge, then immediately walked in its direction.  
  
“Woah,” Sirius grabbed his sleeve, “we’re going to go toward the crazy noise?”  
  
James glared at his friend. “What if Bran’s in there?”  
  
There was no further argument and the boys trudged toward the towering shack. The noises grew louder the closer they got. Growls, whines, smashes and cracking of wood on wood.  
  
“Stay here,” James shoved Sirius and Peter behind a bush and wrapped the cloak tightly around himself before approaching a low window. He was peering into the drawing room of what looked like a long-abandoned home. Chairs and tables lay splintered across the floor. Two settees had been overturned and their stuffing gouged out and strewn about the room. The wall was covered with what appeared to be dozens of overlapping claw marks. The noises could still be heard, but seemed to be coming from the second story.  
  
James was ready to turn away when an entirely different sound floated through a crack in the window pane. It was the high, soft cry of a young girl sobbing. “Branwen!”  
  
He whipped out his wand and started for the door when a movement on the stairs caught his eye. Coming down from the upper floor was a werewolf. The wolf sniffed the air as James stumbled away from the window and collapsed beside his friends.  
  
“Mate?” Sirius groped around until he felt the edge of the cloak, then lifted it over himself and Peter. “What was it? What’s in there?”  
  
“W-w-werewolf!”  
  
“Wha-!” Sirius clapped a hand over Peter’s mouth before he could scream.  
  
“We can’t leave though,” James was panting. “Branwen’s in there too.”  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
“I heard her. I heard her in there. I’d know her voice anywhere.”  
  
“So, what’re we supposed to do? Fight a werewolf?”  
  
James shook his head. “I couldn’t see where she was. She must be hiding somewhere. If we can wait until the sun comes up and the werewolf changes back, we can get in there and rescue her. For now, we’ll just have to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t find her.”  
  
“Or us,” Peter gulped as Sirius released his mouth.  
  
The other boys were wary of James’ plan, but neither had a better one. And, though they wouldn’t admit it, neither wanted to find his way back to the school alone in the dark. So they decided to take turns, one of them watching at the window under the cloak while the other two huddling beneath the porch.  
  
They had come completely unprepared to spend a deep winter’s night out of doors. Their toes and fingers went numb almost instantly, and Peter kept whimpering about frostbite and amputations. The wind was partially blocked when they were under the porch, but whoever was on observation duty had to face the frosty breeze with only the invisibility cloak and his thin school robes. Never before had James been so cold. Only his determination to see his sister safe again kept him rooted to the spot.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dawn crept upon them slowly; the only signal of its approach was a grey mist rolling in, only a shade lighter than the darkness around them. James and Sirius were squeezed together as tightly as possible, stealing each other’s body heat under the porch. Peter, who had been on lookout, was slumped against the wall, a high-pitched snore whistling from his nose. Then a loud wail, entirely different from the ones that had haunted them all night, jolted them wide awake. They rushed to the window, the cloak pooling on the ground.  
  
This new noise, somewhere between the vicious howl of a wolf devouring its prey and the scream of a tortured man, was more horrifying than anything boys their age could have imagined. The werewolf was in the centre of the drawing room, but he was no longer fully a wolf. He staggered, then bent double, clutching his stomach. The sound of bones snapping echoed in the cold air. With each snap, another limb shortened. Fur was being shed, leaving a naked, scarred body behind. With a final scream, the face of the wolf contorted, then revealed its owner, bloodied and torn.  
  
“Remus!”  
  
The mouths of all three boys were hanging wide open, but the shout hadn’t come from any of them. A trapdoor in the shack had slammed open and Branwen was suddenly kneeling over her friend. By the time James and the others broke their way through the front door, she was shrugging off her coat and draping it over Remus’ body. Unravelling her scarf, she used it to dab at the blood from his multiple wounds.  
  
“Remus, Remus, I had no idea.” Cold tears slipped down her cheeks. Where they landed on his skin, the grime and gore was washed away. “I’m so, so sorry.”  
  
“Bran? Remus?” James’ voice croaked its way through his throat.  
  
She spun around, finally noticing their presence. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“What are you doing here?” he shot back.  
  
“What are all of you doing here?” A woman’s loud clear voice cut across the confusion. Madam Pomfrey’s head and shoulders were protruding from the cavity beneath the trapdoor. “Get out of here, at once!” She climbed up and shooed at Branwen and her friends.  
  
“No, no!” Branwen threw herself across Remus’ body, clinging to him like a life preserver.  
  
“Bran….it’s….okay….” Remus lifted a hand.  
  
She pulled away, wiping her eyes, and Madam Pomfrey approached. The healer gently lifted Branwen’s coat and scarf, handing them back to the girl as she replaced them with a fresh night shirt and heavy blanket. Then she set herself to work.  
  
She waved her wand across his body, muttering healing spells. Occasionally she would reach a particular spot that needed more attention and the spells would become more complicated. When that was done, she reached into her small valise and pulled out a number of potion bottles, using only a few drops from some, pouring generously from others.  
  
Branwen watched from under the warm, protective arm of her brother who, along with his friends, could only stare at the unbelievable sight before them.  
  
“Well,” Pomfrey pushed herself up and dusted off her knees, “if you four insist on coming along, at least help me get him to the hospital wing.”  
  
James and Sirius rushed forward as though on autopilot, their bodies grateful to finally move and be of use. Each boy slung one of Remus’ arms around their shoulders and attempted to ignore his wincing and groaning. Peter and Branwen followed, Peter patting her hand as she broke out in fresh sobs again.  
  
Led by Pomfrey, the odd procession made its way slowly through the trapdoor and up a long passageway beneath the ground. The friends barely registered that they had emerged beneath the Whomping Willow, which Pomfrey had stilled with a well-aimed spell near one of the roots. With slow, stealthy steps, they managed to avoid any other students and arrived in the hospital wing unnoticed. Knowing the children had much to discuss amongst themselves, Pomfrey made quick work of her final ministrations and left the five alone.  
  
Remus’ eyes were closed and sweat shone on his pale brow as he lay back against the pillows. Branwen knelt beside his bed. Her chin rested on the mattress and one of her hands stroked his with a feather-light touch. The other boys stood, awkward and silent, around the bed of their friend.  
  
“I guess,” Remus’ chest heaved as he spoke, his eyes still closed, “that you’ll be….writing home….telling your parents….there’s a monster….in the school.”  
  
“A monster! Where?” Peter jumped and whipped his head around.  
  
“I mean me. Arse.”  
  
James seemed to wake from a daze. He suddenly started to laugh.  
  
Branwen smacked her brother’s leg. “What on earth are you laughing about?”  
  
“Remus here thinking he’s a monster. I mean, you have to admit, it’s a little ridiculous.”  
  
Remus finally squinted his eyes open. “What are you on about?”  
  
Sirius started to chuckle too. “He’s right, mate. Last week I saw you take a spider and let it go outside instead of killing it. Forgive me if I’m not running for cover.”  
  
“You don’t understand,” Remus’ anger seemed to fuel his energy, “Maybe I’m nice to bugs once in a while, but I could have killed you tonight. I would have if you had come inside the Shack. I have a thing inside me that doesn’t care about anyone. It kills and destroys without feeling or remorse.”  
  
Branwen gripped his hand tightly and traced her finger over a new scar that was forming along his wrist. “That thing inside….It hurts you, too, doesn’t it?”  
  
He glanced down at her, tears streaming freely down both their faces. “You’re our friend, Remus,” she continued, “and friends help each other, no matter what.”  
  
The boys around her nodded. “Anything you need, mate, we're there for you. In fact, anything you need right now? We’ll run out and get it.”  
  
A small smile formed on Remus’ tear-stained face. “Some chocolate would be nice.”  
  
Sirius went to turn, but Branwen held up her hand. “A good witch is always prepared.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of chocolate bars which she distributed with a smile.


	15. A Furry Little Problem

Branwen and the other boys had to leave their friend early the next morning so they could attend classes. Though dishevelled and yawning, James, Sirius, and Peter took the most-detailed notes they possibly could. Their professors were surprised, and a bit suspicious, but decided not to question a good thing. Though Peter nodded off at the lunch table, he made sure to pay close attention in their afternoon Transfiguration lesson, and Sirius was even able to hold himself still long enough to take note of their Potions ingredients.  
  
Branwen joined them at the dinner table before they trooped upstairs to the Gryffindor common room. None of them were sure how long it would take Remus to rejoin them. Sometimes he was gone a few days at a time, sometimes only a few hours. Every time the door opened, they held their breaths. Branwen tried to start on her Astronomy essay, but glanced at the door so often that she wrote the same sentence six times over before realising her mistake.  
  
As she raised her wand to wipe out the offending sentence, the portrait hole creaked open once more. Remus stumbled in, bleary-eyed and bruised. He shuffled over to the small alcove where his friends waited.  
  
“Remus! Are you alright?” Branwen ran to him. She went to wrap him in a hug, then thought twice about squeezing his bruised and broken body. She settled for a gentle hand on his shoulder.  
  
“As well as can be expected, I suppose.” He eased himself onto the plush window seat.  
  
They all sat down and an awkward silence stole over them.  
  
“So,” Remus scratched the back of neck, “have you guys changed your minds yet? I mean, about outing me to the school?”  
  
They blinked in surprise, then Sirius dove into his school bag, yanking out a sheaf of paper. “After taking all these bloody notes for you? I’ve never written so much in my life! My hand may never be the same again!” He held up his right hand in an affected claw.  
  
“Yeah, and that was my chocolate Branwen gave you last night,” Peter pouted. “You think I’m going to let you leave before you pay me back?”  
  
James threw an arm around Remus’ shoulder. “Face it, mate. You’re stuck with us.”  
  
The silence settled over them once more, and Remus turned his face away so his friends couldn’t the tears shining in his eyes.  
  
“I do have a question though,” James cleared his throat. “What exactly were you doing at the Shack last night, Bran? Sirius and I saw you and Remus leaving together in the afternoon. Did you know about his, uh….furry….little….problem?”  
  
“First, that’s a stupid name for a serious problem. Second, of course I knew.” Branwen lifted her head and threw her hair over her shoulder. “I’m not oblivious to the troubles of my friends. Unlike some people.”  
  
Sirius grinned. “Maybe we didn’t catch on because we don’t fancy Remus. Unlike some people.”  
  
Branwen grabbed a textbook and smashed it into Sirius’ shoulder. “Shut up! You don’t know anything!”  
  
“Ouch!” He held a hand over his shoulder and his heart, feigning physical and emotionl pain.  
  
James punched him on his other shoulder. “You know that’s not true, Siri, because all of you know that, as my sister, Bran is off-limits and if I catch any of you with her, I’ll curse your arses until you wish you were never born.”  
  
The three boys gaped at each other in surprise, but Branwen rolled her eyes and tried to hide the flush that came to her face. “Whatever. The main thing is that we need to make a better plan for next time.”  
  
“What? Next time?” Remus jerked away. “What are you talking about? I can’t let you guys go through that again.”  
  
“I think you mean we can’t let you go through that again,” James insisted. “No one should be alone during something like that.”  
  
“What if something goes wrong? What if I kill you?”  
  
“Yeah, but what if you don’t?” Sirius raised his brows.  
  
Remus rolled his eyes, but suppressed a small smile. “Bloody gits. There’s no convincing you is there?”  
  
“’Fraid not! You’re stuck with these gits for life,” Sirius smiled, puffing out his chest. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next three months followed the same repetitive pattern. On the night of the full moon, Branwen, James, Sirius, and Peter would follow Remus through the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack (as Hogsmeade residents had dubbed it, after the horrible noises that issued from it once a month). While they waited, they would sometimes sleep, sometimes eat, sometimes play games. Once, Branwen convinced them to actually do some homework.  
  
No matter what they did though, the hardest part was ignoring the sounds of agony from their friend above. One more than one occasion, Peter vomited after hearing a gush of blood spill from a particularly nasty rending of Remus’ internal organs.  
  
Branwen was always the first to run into the room when Remus was himself again. She did her best to staunch any bleeding and wipe away sweat and tears until Madam Pomfrey could arrive and work her healing magic. Then they followed Pomfrey and Remus back to the hospital wing.  
  
At first, Madam Pomfrey resented the intrusion of the children into her work space, but she soon realised that the morale boost they provided did more for her patient than any potion in her arsenal. Branwen, she noticed, was especially helpful. The girl followed the healer closely, observing silently or asking quiet, timid questions about certain spells or salves. Pomfrey watched her gentle manners and soothing tones and murmured to herself, “I wonder….”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The full moon of May was late in the month that year. Remus was still in the hospital after the rough April transformation of a few days before. Leaving him with a heaping helping of tea and chocolate, Branwen took the opportunity to corner the other boys during one of their rare visits to the library.  
  
She stalked to their table and slammed down a heavy stack of books. The resounding bang earned her the glare of a few nearby students, but she stared them down until they all returned to their studies.  
  
“Um, everything okay Bon-Bon?” James leaned away from his sister, not wanting to further ignite her mood.  
  
“No, it’s not, Jamie,” she shot his nickname back at him. “Our friend is sick. He goes through a near death experience every month and what are we doing about it? Picking up the pieces, that’s what!” she snapped at Peter when he opened his mouth to answer the rhetorical question.  
  
James huffed. “What do you except us to do, genius?”  
  
“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it? We all need to work together to come up with an idea that will help.”  
  
“Are you giving us homework?!” Sirius leaned across the table, his loud exclamation earning another few dirty looks.  
  
“Look, you guys are clever. Really clever. Look at all the pranks you’ve pulled off. That takes some real skill and planning! Surely we can come up with something together. At this point, nothing’s too extreme to consider.”  
  
They pondered this for a moment. Then James’ jaw firmed and his eyes glinted. He stuck his hand across the table toward his sister. “Challenge accepted.”


	16. Where There's a Will...

The books Branwen distributed on the table consisted of everything she could find pertaining to werewolves: The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts, by Arsenius Jigger, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, by Newt Scamander, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, by Quentin Trimble, and Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don't Deserve to Live by Emerett Picardy. The last one especially offended Branwen and the boys had to hold her back from setting it on fire.  
  
They decided to keep their researches a secret from Remus (it isn’t like he hasn’t kept things from us, Sirius reminded them). It was easiest for Branwen, who could simply yawn and claim she was going to bed early, then hurry upstairs to begin her studies. And because none of the books contained “werewolf” in the title, she was free to read and take notes as much as she wanted under the guise of being especially excited for their DADA class.  
  
The boys had a harder time though, namely because Remus was their room-mate and a naturally observant person. The first thing that tipped him off was that the boys actually started doing their homework when it was assigned. But no matter how much they read and studied, it seemed like they never actually finished an assignment. Late one evening, while he was playing Wizard Chess with Edgar Bones, Remus realised that Peter must have been reading a book other than the one propped up in front of him. Not only was it his Potions book, but it was upside down.  
  
James made a show of stretching and yawning, slamming shut his copy of Fantastic Beasts. As he made his way toward the dorm stairs, leaned in toward his sister. “Tomorrow before breakfast. Library.”  
She nodded.  
  
Early mornings were always the best time to avoid Remus, as everyone knew he was the latest riser of the group. Branwen, however, was the second latest. She woke up that morning perfectly on time to make her classes, but half-an-hour late to meet her friends. She threw on her robes, snatched her school bag, and grabbed her Christmas scarf from Mrs. Lupin. Flying out the portrait hole, she didn’t notice someone in the shadows of the stairwell.  
  
When she reached the library, she raced through the maze of shelves, thankful it was too early for most sane students to have arrived. “I’m here!”  
  
Sirius and Peter were slumped over on a small round table nestled near the back wall. They jerked awake when Branwen came rushing in. James was pacing the length of a tall shelf, running his hands through his hair. It looked as though he had just rolled out of bed, which he probably had.  
  
“Bran! There you are! What have you gotten us into? We’ve read and reread these things a hundred times and there is nothing – nothing! - in any of these books that will help one little bit! Especially that one,” he glared at Lupine Lawlessness.  
  
“Yeah! Screw you, Picardy,” Sirius, now wide awake, picked up the offending book, threw it on the floor, and kicked it into the wall.  
  
Madam Pince, the vulture-like librarian, stretched her head around a corner. Her eyes were narrow slits in her sallow face. “Detention, Mr. Black. And twenty points from Gryffindor for destruction of school property.”  
  
As soon as she was out of sight, Sirius grinned. “Worth it.” He dropped into a chair and tilted it back against the wall.  
  
“Well, fine. I think we all agree the book deserved it. But that doesn’t bring us any closer to actually helping Remus,” James continued his pacing.  
  
Branwen shrugged. “We’ll just have to broaden our parameters. Don’t we know anything at all?”  
  
“We know that werewolves have a Ministry rating of XXXXX,” Peter held up Fantastic Beasts. “That’s the highest they go.”  
  
James flipped through The Dark Forces. “This one says that werewolves only attack humans. Other animals are safe.”  
  
“It says here that if two werewolves mate, they’ll have actual wolf cubs!” Sirius laughed. “Can you imagine Remus with a litter of little furballs?”  
  
“So this is what you think of me? What you’ve been doing behind my back?” Remus emerged from the shadow cast by the nearby stacks. His arms were crossed and his green eyes were an iced lake, deep and deadly.  
  
Branwen was the first to run to her friend, “Remus! You don’t understand –”  
  
“Why not? Because I’m an animal? A monster?” He growled, the same sound Branwen had heard before. She stepped back, but Sirius stiffened, his fingers curling into fists. “Why don’t you just shove it, wolf-boy! We’re trying to help you!”  
  
James stepped between the two boys, his arms outstretched. “Enough! Remus, Sirius is right. It was Bran’s idea to do some research and see if there’s anything we can do to help you. You should be thanking her!”  
  
Madam Pince whipped around the corner once more. “Detention for all of you, this time. And another fifty points from Gryffindor. There will be no yelling in the library!”  
  
They waited until she was gone, then Remus took a deep breath. “Look, even if you were trying to help, it won’t do any good. You think my parents haven’t tried everything over the past seven years? You think they haven’t scoured every source, looking for some sort of cure or, or relief? I’ve drank potions, eaten things, worn all kinds of amulets and, and….things you wouldn’t believe. Nothing works.”  
  
Not knowing what to say, the four others glanced at each other, then at their feet.  
  
“I’m going to class. And I….I don’t think you guys should come around the Shack this week.” Remus shouldered his bag and turned around, leaving his friends in the half-shadow of the morning light.  
  
“Well that could’ve gone better – ow!” Peter yelped as Sirius smacked the back of his head.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The full moon inched closer and still, Remus ignored them. He sat apart from the boys in classes now, snagging a seat beside Lily any time he could. He ran past them in the common room and they found him fast asleep when they turned in every night. James and Peter would sometimes try to engage him, but Sirius seemed to be sulking, feeling guilty over the joke his friend had overheard.  
  
Branwen took things much more to heart, however. Her pleading gaze followed him through every room, but he walked as though in a trance, never looking to either side. She began to pick at her food, shoving it around on her plate.  
  
“That’s it,” James murmured after the second meal she hadn’t even shown up to, “I’m having it out with him. He can treat us like shite if he wants, but he’s going to apologise to Bran if it’s the last thing he does.”  
  
“Just wait until after class, mate,” Sirius responded. “She would flip her wand if you did anything right out in the open.”  
  
James agreed, then nodded to Peter and three of them made their way to Transfiguration.  
  
James was glad he had decided to wait until later to kick Remus’ arse. Merlin, he was tired. All those detentions and late night homework assignments and the worry over Branwen….  
  
McGonagall’s soothing Scottish accent drifted in and out of his consciousness. “….the Avifors spell….birds can be very useful….inanimate into animate….rather difficult….human transfiguration of course….much more difficult….” Here, her voice drifted off completely. It was as though someone had taken two exposed wires in James’ brain and touched them to each other. The spark that leapt between them was a fully-formed idea.  
  
His hand shot up, as though of its own accord. “Yes, Mr. Potter?”  
  
“Professor, you’re an Animagus, correct?”  
  
McGonagall sighed. “That was established at the beginning of your first year, Mr. Potter.”  
  
“Yes, but, I didn’t think of my questions until just now. For example, when you’re in your animal form, can you talk to other animals?”  
  
“Mr. Potter, the nature of Animagi will be discussed in third year classes. Now, if you have anything pertinent to add to our current conversation….”  
  
“Is it difficult to become an Animagus?”  
  
“Extremely.” McGonagall’s lips were pressed into a thin line.  
  
“But it can be done,” James sped up before he could be told to quiet down. “I mean, if you really wanted to, you could learn to be an animal and then you could talk to animals and….well, also have a human brain?”  
  
McGonagall sighed once more. “While an Animagus is in their animal form, yes, they have the ability to communicate with other animals and still think as a human. It is, however, an extremely difficult and demanding process which few wizards or witches are able to achieve in a lifetime. So I strongly discourage any further investigation into the subject,” her pointed gaze was aimed directly at James.  
  
His hand wafted down. Everyone in the class was watching him with unconcealed confusion, including his three room mates.  
  
As soon as class was over, Sirius and Peter pulled James aside. Remus passed them, following Lily down the hall. He eyed the boys curiously, but decided to continue on his way.  
  
“What the hell was that about, mate?”  
  
James ran a hand through his hair, both frustrated and excited. “I think I might have an idea! We need to find Branwen.”  
  
“So we’re not going to kick Remus’ arse?” Peter asked.  
  
“I don’t know. Maybe. Right now we have to find Branwen.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was easy to find her. Even though dinner was happening in the Great Hall, she was curled up in their usual alcove in the common room. James swallowed his anger at her for not eating again, the motioned the boys to gather round. Even though the room was empty, he made them sit as close as possible, leaning in until their noses almost touched. When he spoke it was in a whisper. “I think we have a solution to our….furry little problem.”  
  
The others watched him expectantly.  
  
“We become Animagi!”  
  
There was a pause, then Sirius leaned back and yelled, “That’s your solution?!”  
  
“But James,” Peter whispered, “you heard what McGonagall said. That’s super advanced stuff. I mean, I could barely get my chess piece to sprout wings today!”  
  
“Not to mention, how in Merlin’s bloody beard is that possibly going to help the wolfman?”  
  
Branwen, who had been silent up to this point, whispered, “He’s right. I remember reading about it. Werewolves attack humans exclusively. There’s never been a recorded attack on animals. If we were animals, we could be with him during the full moon.”  
  
“But Bran,” Sirius tried to keep his voice down, “do you even know what it takes to become an Animagus? I don’t, but if McGonagall said it’s hard it must be reallllly hard.”  
  
“Does anyone have any better ideas?” she scowled.  
  
Sirius and Peter avoided her eyes.  
  
“It’s settled then,” James said.  
  
Branwen nodded. “Now we just need to decide if we’re going to tell Remus or surprise him later.”  
  
“We should tell him,” Peter said, “Remember what happened last time we kept something from him?”  
  
“Alright,” Branwen agreed. “We’ll tell him after this moon. If he’ll ever speak to us again,” She frowned. The portrait hole swung open admitting Remus, Lily, and Mary McDonald. They took a table across the room and pull out their half-finished essays, laughing easily. Branwen had always admired Lily’s stunning red hair, so she didn't understand why, in that moment, she wanted nothing more than to rip it out with her bare hands.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On the day of the full moon, none of the friends accompanied Remus to the Shack, and Madam Pomfrey went alone to collect him. When the pair returned to the hospital wing in the early hours of the morning though, they found James, Sirius, Peter, and Branwen pacing nervously around the room.  
  
“Remus!” Branwen ran to his side and helped Pomfrey lay him gently on the closest cot.  
  
“Hey,” he smiled weakly. Once Pomfrey had finished her ministrations, she closed the curtains around his bed where the friends now gathered. “Listen. I’m sorry guys. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’m just not used to, you know….”  
  
“Not used to people caring about a stubborn git like you?” Sirius grinned.  
  
Remus chuckled softly. “Something like that.”  
  
“Well, for your information, we have come up with a solution,” James informed him.  
  
“Wh-what?” his eyes searched the faces of his friends.  
  
Branwen took his hand. “We’re going to become Animagi.”  
  
This time Remus laughed, clutching his sides when the action strained his newly healed ribs. “Good one, guys.”  
  
“We’re serious!” Peter insisted.  
  
“Well, actually I’m – ”  
  
James punched his friend in the arm before he could finish his joke. “Listen, it’s the only thing that makes sense. Werewolves don’t attack animals. And we’d be able to communicate better, since a werewolf is kind of like an animal, and Animagi can talk with animals.”  
  
“It’ll be fun if you think about it,” Peter added. “You won’t have to be alone in that stupid shack any more.”  
  
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it. It’s just – the process to become an Animagus is incredibly difficult and incredibly dangerous. I can’t have you guys risking your lives like that for me.”  
  
“Don’t be so vain, mate,” Sirius rolled his eyes. “Sure, it will help you, but think how much fun it will be for us. We’ll be the youngest wizards ever to do something so awesome. We’ll go down in history!”  
  
They all laughed.  
  
“Well, promise me this,” Remus’ voice was hoarse, though from pain or emotion they couldn’t tell. “Wait until next semester to start. Take the summer to make sure you really want to do this.”  
  
“We’ll promise,” James stepped up, “if you promise to not act like such an idiot again. And, you need to apologise to Bran. It was her idea for us to find something that would help you, and you’ve treated her like filth all week.”  
  
Branwen’s head was bowed. Remus lifted a weak, trembling hand to stroke her silken hair. “I’m sorry, Bran.”  
  
She didn’t look up, but her voice cracked when she answered, “I forgive you.”  
  
“Good,” he laid back and smiled. “Now open the side drawer here. There's some chocolate in it. Eat it. You’ll feel better.”


	17. Rescue Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: loooooong chapter coming up. Hopefully it's worth it though.  
> I'm really enjoying writing the interactions of these boys and my OFC, and I hope you're enjoying reading them as well :)

The next moon, the last of the spring semester, carried on much like the ones before it. James and Sirius stayed beneath the Shack and helped their friend back to the hospital wing where Peter and Branwen waited with Madam Pomfrey.  
  
School let out only a few days later and Remus had to be helped onto the Hogwarts Express. He spent most of the ride back to London sleeping or smiling weakly at his friends’ jokes. Branwen kept him plied with tea and chocolate to make the ride more comfortable and the boys took some of their louder antics out into the corridor.  
  
As they got closer to the capitol city though, it was Sirius’ mood that became gloomier and gloomier. All the boys had written home during the semester to ask about staying with the Potters over the summer. Only the Blacks had refused.

  


The Potters’ home was similar to the Blacks’ in only one regard: from the street view, it was invisible to Muggles. When Lyall Lupin Apparated across the street holding the hands of his son and Peter Pettigrew, the building began to slide into view from between its neighbours, much like a pocket door. It was a large white Victorian nestled between two other period structures, complete with gingerbread accent and miniature turrets.  
  
The three travellers crossed the road and knocked. The door was opened a few seconds later by a plump, wrinkled witch in pink robes covered by a stark white apron. “Good morning,” her face creased into a smile. “You must be Mr. Lupin. Please, come in. The Potters are expecting you.”  
  
She stood aside and they entered a large foyer whose walls were cluttered in knick-knacks.  
  
“Remus! Peter!” Branwen had been racing down a broad hallway on her broom with a butterfly net when she spotted them. Tumbling off the broom, which crashed into a suit of armour, she ran to the door. “It’s okay, Cassie, I’ll show them in.”  
  
“Very good, Miss Branwen,” the witch nodded and retreated down the hall, restoring the armour with a flick of her wand.  
  
Branwen threw her arms around Remus’ waist, then gave Peter a peck on the cheek before smiling up at Lupin. “How do you do, Mr. Lupin? Please come in. My parents are the parlour.”  
  
They all made their way into the large, yet cosy room and Fleamont and Euphemia stood to welcome their guests. “Lupin, so nice to see you again,” Fleamont extended his hand.  
  
“And you, Potter. Hope wanted to make sure I thanked you again for taking Remus in this week. James and Branwen are nearly all he talks about in his letters.”  
  
Remus’ scars lit up violently as his face turned a burning shade of red, but Branwen was beaming. She felt sure that her cheeks would hurt from grinning so hard.  
  
“Well, I can assure you that the appreciation is mutual,” Euphemia said. “You know, James and Branwen were gifts that came late in life to my husband and I. It will lovely to have the house filled with children. We only wish young Sirius Black had been able to make it as well.”  
  
“Yes,” Lupin glanced away. Remus had only glowing things to say about Sirius in his letters, but the name of Black was associated with anything but good in Lupin’s mind. He had attended Hogwarts at the same time as Walburga and her brothers, Alphard and Cygnus. The three of them had been a gang of terror who would have tormented Lupin endlessly if not for the watchful eye of Albus Dumbledore.  
  
The moment of awkwardness passed as soon as James burst into the room. He ran to his friends, throwing an arm around Remus and high-fiving Peter, who missed and smacked his friend in the chest.  
  
Lupin smiled once more. “Well, it looks like you boys are in good company. I better get back to your mother, Remus. And don’t forget to owl your parents, Peter, and let them know you got here safely.” Lupin pulled his son close before Remus raced down the hall, following his friends.  
  
Most of the children’s day was spent on a grand tour of the enormous house. Expanded far beyond what was visible from the outside (even by magic eyes), there were several stories of bedrooms, two dining rooms, an indoor pool, a small menagerie, and a Quidditch pitch on the roof. Dinner that night was the product of the witch they had met earlier, Cassie, and was on par with the best of Hogwarts’ feasts.  
  
Later that evening, Euphemia, delighted to have a full house, stuffed them with pudding and cocoa in front of a roaring that was charmed to give off no heat – a necessity in the stifling July summer.  
  
When Peter started to yawn and his chin began to droop onto his chest, Fleamont chuckled. “Well, it looks like it’s time for you boys to turn in. Remus, Peter, you’ll find that your luggage has been brought up to your room; it’s the one next to James’. I hope you all get a good rest. Breakfast will be at nine tomorrow.”  
  
“Thank you, sir,” Remus dragged Peter up by the arm, following James and Branwen upstairs.  
  
For the next hour or two, it seemed as though things had settled down for the night. Fleamont and Euphemia retired soon after the children, and Cassie finished her duties for the day by locking all the doors and turning out the lights. Once everyone was in bed, the house rested silently.  
  
Until a door creaked open into the darkness.  
  
In her red paisley dressing gown, her long black hair in a single plait, Branwen padded softly down the hall. She knocked, as softly as possible, on one of the doors. “Remus. Peter.” She whispered as loudly as she dared. She knocked again.  
  
There was shuffling noise, then the door parted to reveal a tousle-haired Remus, blinking slowly. “Branwen?”  
  
“Wake up Peter and meet us in James’ room.” She tiptoed back down the hall, opening her brother’s door and slipping inside.  
  
“Bon-Bon! Did you tell them?” James jumped down from his bed.  
  
She nodded. “They should be here soon.”  
  
The siblings didn’t have to wait long as Remus entered a few moments later, dragging a half-asleep Peter behind him. “What’s this all about?” Remus rubbed his eyes.  
  
“We have to spring Sirius!” James seemed not to have slept at all. Though he was dressed in his blue-striped pyjamas, his eyes were bright behind his square-rimmed glasses and he was bouncing on the balls of his feet.  
  
“’Spring’ him?”  
  
“Yeah. You know, bust him out, liberate him!”  
  
“We’re going to rescue him from his awful mother,” Branwen concluded with a firm nod.  
  
Remus stared at the pair. A snore escaped Peter as his head lolled forward.  
  
“You mean, you want us to kidnap Sirius?” Remus blinked a few more times. “How?”  
  
“Floo Powder. Mum and Dad keep it above the fireplace. Should be easy enough.”  
  
“And once we’re there….?”  
  
“We find Sirius and bring him back.”  
  
Remus seemed to be formulating an argument, but was apparently too tired to voice it.  
  
“So, are you in?” James leaned forward eagerly.  
  
He rolled his eyes. “Your parents are going to kill us. And then Sirius’ parents will bring us back as Inferi and kill us again.”  
  
“Probably,” James shrugged.  
  
“Fine.”  
  
Branwen leaned over. “Psst. Peter. Are you coming with us?”  
  
Peter jerked. “Hm? Yes, more pie please.”  
  
“Peter! Come on.” The three of them jostled their friend awake as they half-carried him down the stairs to the parlour hearth. As soon as he was awake, though, and released the situation, he began to whine.“B-b-but, James! If I get caught, my parents won’t ever let me come over again. Maybe they won’t even let be go back to Hogwarts! Ohhhhh – what if Dumbledore finds out and we get expelled?”  
  
James gave him a shove. “Come off it, Pete, and give me a hand.” Peter interlaced his fingers and cradled them so James could step up and reach the blue porcelain vase containing the Powder. Even with the help of his friend, James could barely reach his hand into the narrow opening. “Got it! All right. Everyone ready?”  
  
James held the Powder in one hand and grabbed his sister with the other. She held out her other hand to Remus who took it and extended his to Peter. James flung the Powder as hard as he could. They all flinched when the green flames leapt to life. As loud as he dared in the silence of the house he spoke, “Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London.”  
  
The four stepped into the blaze and felt their bodies liquefying, bending, jerking, tearing. Branwen squeezed the two hands in her own as tight as she possibly could. Just when she thought she could hold on no longer, she felt the chafe of a tightly woven rug scald her cheek. She sat up moaning.  
  
At first she thought she’d been rendered blind. No matter how many times she blinked, she saw only darkness pressing in. It was eerie, though it took her a moment to realise why. In her room at home and in her dorm at Hogwarts, there was always some form of light, some outside brightness that permeated the room. Starlight outside the window or a fire in the grate. No matter how dark the room appeared, there would always come a time when her eyes would adjust and could make out some shape or other. Nothing was touched by light in here. There were no shapes, no forms; there was only darkness.  
  
With a cold chill, she suddenly realised that her hands were empty and she couldn’t see her brother or anyone else. A tight feeling constricted her chest and her breathing got shallower and shallower. “James?” she whimpered.  
  
“Bran,” a hand reached out, closing over hers. It was warm, but more calloused than James’, the fingers longer and more slender.“Remus?”  
  
“Over here guys,” a pinprick of light penetrated the darkness and Branwen could see James standing by a doorway at the end of the room. Unable to use his wand outside of school, he had resorted to a Muggle torch he had found in Peter’s luggage. Remus moved to withdraw his hand, but Branwen squeezed it even more tightly as they crossed the room.  
  
“Where’s Peter?”  
  
They heard a thunk and then a Muggle swear. “Who puts a piano in the middle of the room?” Peter limped over, rubbing his shin.  
  
“Come on,” James waved them on, “his room is probably up stairs.”  
  
“I think you should shut the light off for now, James,” Remus whispered.  
  
“Yeah, all right.” The light extinguished with a click, plunging them all into darkness once more. Stilling clinging to Remus, Branwen reached out her other hand. It connected with a soft palm she recognised as her brother’s. Hands linked, the four of them crept as slowly as possible up the steep staircase, holding their breaths as they passed snoozing portraits.  
  
When they reached the landing, James risked flashing the light once more. “Here! On the left.” The light went out again. “Sirius? Siri? You in there?” James’ voice was as loud as he dared. He waited a few moments, then whispered again. “It’s James. If you’re in there, open up.”  
  
They heard the squeak of bed springs, then quiet. Finally, a bolt was slowly drawn back and the door opened no more than an inch. One of Sirius’ grey eyes could be seen through the crack. “Holy, mother of Merlin. It is you.”  
  
The door shut and a chain rattled before it opened again. “You nutters better get in here.” He opened the door just wide enough for his friends to file in.  
  
There was an awkward pause as the five friends stood in a semi-circle, gaping at each other. Here, at least, was a manageable darkness. The curtains were thrown back, letting in starlight and the glow of street lamps. Branwen could make out Sirius’ shaggy hair and excited, sparkling eyes. He finally broke the silence. “What are you guys doing here? If my mother finds you –”  
  
“We’re here to break you out, but we have to move fast,” James whispered. “Where do you keep the Floo Powder?”  
  
“Is that how you lot got here?”  
  
They froze as a new voice issued from the doorway. When they turned they could see Regulus, arms folded, framed by the darkness of the hall.  
  
“Reg,” Sirius’ voice was strained, “please….please don’t tell Mum.”  
  
Regulus’ eyes narrowed. “Why not? What’s in it for me?”  
  
“Why you little –” James’ hands curled into fists and he lunged forward.  
  
“Regulus, please,” Branwen finally released Remus’ hand as she stepped between her brother and the other boy “If you tell, we’ll all get in trouble, not just us, but you too. You and I can finally try out for Quidditch this year, but not if we get expelled or, or if our parents pull us out. You don’t have to do anything, just please, let us go.”  
  
Regulus held Branwen’s gaze for a moment. Then, without looking away, he said, “The Powder’s on the mantel. In that old snuff box of Grandfather’s.” Without another word, he turned and vanished into the shadows.  
  
Remus strode forward and grasped Branwen’s hand again.  
  
“All right, let’s go,” James beckoned.  
  
“Wait, I don’t have any clothes!”  
  
“Everything I have will fit you, now come on.”  
  
There was an urgency to their creeping now. More than once Branwen heard a creak from somewhere in the house and froze, full of a cold fear of discovery. If Remus hadn’t continued to gently guide her, she may have remained frozen forever on the third stair after one of the portraits gave an especially loud snore.  
  
When they reached the sitting room once more, James and Sirius went about the task of trying to reach the small silver box resting on the mantel. It became obvious how much Sirius had grown over the past year when his lanky arm swept above his friend’s head and easily swiped the box. “Here,” he poured out a small handful of the powder into James’ hand, “we have to put it back or she’ll know what we did.”  
  
He replaced the box in its exact location, nudging it a few centimetres this way then that, until he was satisfied. The Black fireplace was too narrow for all five of them to stand side by side, so Peter, Remus, and Branwen grabbed on to the shoulders of James and Sirius who gave the powder a ferocious toss. James enunciated, “Potter House, London.”  
  
They were swooped once more through the swirling Floo Network. When they landed this time, however, they emerged into the Potter’s parlour, practically blind with light compared to Grimmauld Place. It was still the early pre-dawn hours, but the friends could make out each other’s ecstatic faces as they gazed around triumphantly. James and Sirius embraced each other, rolling on the floor as they held a hand to one another’s mouth, preventing each other from yelling their excitement. When they broke apart, Branwen pounced on Sirius, hugging him as tightly as her brother had. Remus and Peter gave him quick hugs as well.  
  
“Wait,” Sirius’ eyes grew wide, “what are we going to do if your parents catch us? Are they going to turn me in?”  
  
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” James waved his hand. “Our mum and dad aren’t like that.” A creak sounded from somewhere in the large, mostly empty house. “Still, uh, maybe we should get going.”  
  
They tramped up the stairs quite a bit more noisily than they had in the Black house. Though James was correct in his assessment of his parents’ understanding nature, he also didn’t realise that his parents, much older than those of his friends’, were almost deaf when they slept without their hearing charms.  
  
When they reached the hall, Branwen split off from her friends, disappearing into her room. The boys followed James into his. He ran to the window seat and lifted the middle cushion. “Behold! My stash!” He leaned down and pulled out a bulging bag of candies. “I keep this stocked for occasions just such as this.”  
  
Remus grinned. “You anticipated a situation where we would kidnap one of our friends and stow him away in your room?”  
  
“It crossed my mind,” James smirked.  
  
Branwen slipped back into the room, cradling an armful of books. “I see you broke out the stash,” she smiled.  
  
The five friends flopped onto James’ huge four-poster bed. For a while, they were content to revel silently in their success; there was only the sound of wrappers rustling and soft chewing. Finally, Remus reached down and traced a finger over one of the books Branwen had brought. “What’s this? Transfiguration books?”  
  
“Yes,” she answered, “as much as we love having Sirius here –”  
  
“– and rescuing him from that awful house –”  
  
“– we have important matters to discuss.” Branwen flipped open the book at the top of the pile, A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration. “I finally managed to track down the formula for becoming an Animagus.” She frowned. “It is rather difficult though.”  
  
“Maybe that’s why it’s in the advanced book,” Peter said. “We don’t even start talking about stuff like that until this next term.”  
  
Remus interjected. “I thought you promised to wait until the end of holidays to make a decision.”  
  
“Yes, but I thought we should all know what we’re getting into.” She passed the book around.  
  
“Woah,” James’ eyes widened. He read a portion out loud, “Carry a single Mandrake leaf in your mouth for an entire month – from full moon to full moon to be precise.”  
  
Sirius took the book, “Add a silver teaspoon of dew from a place that neither sunlight nor human feet have touched for a full seven days.”  
  
“When the process of becoming an Animagus goes wrong, it often goes seriously wrong. We’re talking horrible half-human, half-animal mutations, with no known cure.” Peter paled and appeared on the verge of swooning.  
  
“That settles it!” Remus snapped. “None of you are doing this. It’s way too dangerous.”  
  
“That’s our decision to make, not yours,” Branwen snapped back.  
  
The silence that followed was rife with tension.  
  
“I say we make a pact,” James whispered, “a blood pact.”  
  
“Mate….” Sirius’ voice trailed off when he saw the determination in his friend’s eyes.  
  
Peter’s eyes were wide and he whispered almost reverently, “You know how to do that?”  
  
James nodded. “And it’s not wand magic. It’s just a promise. I don’t think the Ministry will consider it underage stuff.”  
  
Despite her determination to carry out the mission, even Branwen seemed cautious when she whispered, “James, I don’t think this is what Dad meant us to use it for when he taught us.”  
  
“What happens if one of us breaks it?” Peter asked.  
  
“That won’t happen. Will it?” James’ eyes glinted with fierce conviction.  
  
Remus sprang from the bed, sputtering with anger. “This is ridiculous! I can’t let you do this! It’s….it’s completely mental. You’re mad, the lot of you!”  
  
Branwen glared at him; she seemed to have come to a decision. Then she jumped from the bed and ran from the room.  
  
Remus ran his hands through his hair and tried to hide the twinge of disappointment from his voice. “At least one of you has some brains.”  
  
In the intervening minutes, James, Sirius, and Peter seemed to struggle internally. They held the book between themselves, pored over the instructions, and whispered heatedly among themselves.  
  
Unexpectedly, Branwen came bursting back through the door. She was wielding a small paring knife that glinted in the candlelight. The boys leaned back as she ran toward them, a near maniacal look in her eyes. She held up her left palm, then sliced into it with the knife. The boys were all too shocked to stop her.  
  
A single drop of her scarlet blood floated into the air.  
  
Still gripping the knife, Branwen met their eyes. “I, Branwen Euphemia Potter, solemnly swear to become an Animagus in order to help my friend, Remus Lupin. I swear to keep his secret and my own until the day I die. I swear to keep the secret of all my friends who join endeavour this with me. I swear to never betray the trust made here today and never breathe a word to anyone outside this room. In short,” she had a devious grin, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”  
  
There was a pause before James snatched the knife from his sister. He cut into his own palm, holding back a grimace. “I also swear.” His blood flew into the air, joining with Branwen’s.  
  
“I swear.” Sirius’ blood wafted up.  
  
“I swear.” Peter blinked back tears when it took him nearly three tries to open his skin.  
  
The four of them turned to Remus. With a steely glint in his eye, he grabbed the knife and carved into himself without flinching. “I swear.”  
  
The five drops of blood swirled in the air before binding together. A shimmering light formed around it, crystallising into a transparent silver phial. It floated gently down into Branwen’s bloody palm. “I’ll take care of this; don’t worry.”  
  
Trying to honour the solemnity of the occasion, the friends tried to stay awake to reflect on the magnitude of their decision. It wasn’t long though, before the excitement of the night, the Floo travel, the sugar rush, and the blood-letting, took its toll on their young bodies.  
  
After twelve years of sibling shenanigans, James and Branwen thought nothing of impromptu sleepovers; Branwen was the first to fall asleep, curled up on her side in her brother’s before he flopped on his back next to her, glasses askew. Sirius lay onto his stomach beside his friend and Peter scrunched himself into a ball on the far end.  
  
Remus was left on the very edge beside Branwen. He lay on his back, arms stiff by his side. He both felt and looked like a recently prepared corpse. After outgrowing the nightmares that sent him scurrying to his parents’ room, he had never shared a bed with another person. It was, in fact, one of his favourite parts about Hogwarts, his own roomy bed, close enough to others for comfort, but never too close.  
  
Whether it was her sleepy unconsciousness or a purposeful decision, Branwen’s small hand reached out and tucked itself into the crook of his elbow. He stiffened even more for the briefest of moments, then melted into the soft feather bed and softer touch of the girl beside him.


	18. Play Day

The friends drifted up slowly from their sleep the next morning. Peter tugged the comforter on to his side of the bed, leaving Remus exposed on the other end. He woke at the sudden loss of warmth. When he looked down the bed, he found Branwen sprawled out, one arm resting over his own chest and a leg tossed over James, who was snoring loudly. Then a woman’s deep ringing voice resounded up the staircase and Sirius bolted upright. “My mum!”  
  
They all tumbled out of bed as quickly as possible, making a tremendous rumble, especially as Peter thrashed about, trying to untangle himself from the blanket. They ran to the upstairs landing and leaned as far forward as they dared to catch the conversation below.  
  
“Ah, Walburga,” Fleamont’s smooth voice could be heard greeting his guest, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”  
  
“I’ve no time for niceties, Potter. Where is my son?”  
  
“Which one?”  
  
“You know which one. Sirius was not in his room this morning, nor anywhere else in the house. I know all about his misguided infatuation with your son, and I know that James aided him in sneaking out of the house last night. I’m sure that the two of them are here right now, under your very noses. “  
  
“It’s true that James has a few schoolmates over, but I can assure you that Sirius is not among them.”  
  
“Then call the children down here. Question them Search his room.”  
  
Euphemia must have joined her husband at some point, because she spoke up, full of indignation. “This has gone far enough, Walburga. We will not subject our children to a, a criminal interrogation simply because of your suspicious mind.”  
  
There was a moment’s silence when it seemed everyone in the house was holding their breath. Then Mrs. Black spoke in a whisper that only just carried up to strained ears waiting at the top of the stairs. “I swear, Potter, that if my son is found to be in your house, it will not go well for you. I will see to it that those two will never lay eyes on one another again. I have connections at Hogwarts, you know. If I need to, I will remove my son into the respectable House he should have been in to begin with. He’ll receive the proper company there and no longer have to associate with traitors and….mudbloods.”  
  
Mrs. Black’s voice may have been quiet, but Fleamont’s roared out. “Get out of my house, Walburga! This instance. And if I catch you around here, or any where near my children again, the Ministry will hear about your little visit. I’m sure they’d be very interested to know about your supposed manipulation of the Sorting process at Hogwarts. Do not think that I am above dragging you and your entire family name through a very messy and very public scandal.”  
  
The door slammed shut.  
  
Fleamont and Euphemia could be heard conversing quietly, but the sound faded as the friends raced back to James’ room. There was silence while they tried to avoid Sirius’ eye. Finally, Peter whispered, “Your dad is awesome, James.”  
  
They all chuckled, even Sirius, though he was still trembling from both fear and anger. “Well,” he smiled ruefully, “I guess I’ll be going back home.”  
  
“No way,” James grabbed his arm. “We didn’t go through all that trouble just so you can leave so soon. Look, the rest of us will go downstairs and bring you up some breakfast. I’m sure we can avoid my parents for the rest of the day. You missed the grand tour yesterday. There are tons of places to hide in this house.”  
  
Sirius nodded. “All right.”  
  
Branwen hurried back to her room to dress for the day while the boys did the same before heading downstairs.  
  
“Good morning, boys, Bran,” Fleamont was seated at the breakfast table, perusing the Daily Prophet. “Sleep well?”  
  
“Yes, sir,” James reached for the toast. He took one slice for his plate, then slipped another into a napkin on his lap.  
  
Fleamont didn’t look up from his paper. “Son, if you’re hungry this morning, just take another plate up to your room.”  
  
The four friends exchanged glances. “Thanks, dad,” James answered warily.  
  
“And,” Fleamont continued, “your mother wanted me to let you know that she and I will be out all day. I need to make a stop to speak with the new chief wizard at Sleakeazy’s and she’d like to do some shopping. I’m sure you can all find a way to entertain yourselves?” His blue eyes twinkled over the top of the paper.  
  
“Yes, sir.” This time they all grinned.  
  
When they returned to James’ room, Sirius devoured the breakfast they delivered. “Your parents are the best, mate,” he said around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.  
  
“I know,” James smiled. “So, first activity of the day, indoor swimming pool.”  
  
“I didn’t bring any trunks,” Sirius frowned.  
  
“We have lots. They’re in a cupboard near the pool.”

Despite James referring to it as a pool, the indoor body of water resembled a tropical lagoon more than anything else. Gentle waves lapped against sandy shores, and the walls were enchanted to show a clear blue horizon dotted by puffs of white cloud. Palm trees sprouted from the edges, swaying in a warm breeze that filled the room. The only reminders of an actual pool were the water slide, which would shoot the user as high into the air as possible, and the diving board, which was as springy as a trampoline.  
  
James and Sirius ran from the showers dressed in identical blue trunks to dive bomb into the deep end. Branwen followed close behind in her red polka-dotted suit, reminiscent of the stylish Jazz Age costumes. Behind them came Peter. He shuffled through the sand, tip-toeing into ankle-deep water where a flurry of minnows came up to nibble on his toes.  
  
Remus was the last to appear. James and Sirius had grabbed Peter and were swinging him by his arms and legs to throwing him into the deeper water, but they dropped him suddenly when they caught sight of their friend. Branwen spun around to see what they were looking at and her smile dropped from her face.  
  
She had never seen Remus wearing anything less than an undershirt, button-up, and long pants. In the bright light of the artificial sun, his skin glowed ghostly pale. It made the scores of scars on his body stand out in startling clarity. Nearly every inch of his skin was littered with tiny white and pink slashes. Three deep gouges tore through his chest and the tiny craters that peppered his calf muscles looked like the result of (Branwen shuddered) bite marks.  
  
The longer his friends stared though, the angrier Remus became. His upper body tinged a shade of pink and his face steeled itself into a fierce mask, his fists clenched by his side. “All right!” he shouted. “Say it! Say something. I’m hideous….a freak.”  
  
Branwen glided through the water to the where the deepest point of the lagoon meet the shore. She held out her hand. “I have something to say.”  
  
Remus approached and eyed her cautiously, but she blinked her blue eyes innocently, so he leaned down and grasped her hand. A mischievous grin appeared as soon as their hands touched. “Come on in, the water’s fine!” She yanked as hard as she could and the older boy went toppling into the water beside her.  
  
There was an eruption of laughter and James and Sirius swam over to drag their friends into a game of Dragon Fighting (Muggles sometimes call it Chicken Fighting). The next few hours were spent splashing and diving and swimming. No thought of the outside world, with its vengeful mothers and full moons and gathering darkness, could penetrate the sunniness of the room and its cheerful occupants.  
  
When they tired of the water, they moved to the Potters’ private Quidditch pitch on their roof. It was only about half the size of a regulation pitch, which made it a bit easy for Branwen to catch the Snitch, but it allowed James and Sirius plenty of room to toss a Quaffle back and forth. Peter sat on the sidelines cheering, but Remus was able to balance himself just high enough from the ground to give James a kind of Keeper to play against.  
  
The pitch, though invisible to Muggle eyes, was otherwise open to the wide London sky. It was sometimes difficult in the summer to tell when day ended and night began as the sky paled and the city below began to glow. Street lights and shop signs sparked on, one by one, until the entire city was a reflection of the star-spangled sky above.  
  
The five friends lay on their backs, side-by-side, watching the bejewelled night unfold. It was the close of a nearly perfect day. They were tired with the kind of peaceful exhaustion that comes from rough play and gentle camaraderie. They smelled of sweat and broom polish and their skin glistened with youth and starlight.  
  
“There I am.” Sirius lifted an arm and pointed to the sky.  
  
“What?” James quirked a brow.  
  
“That star there. The brightest in the sky. It’s called Sirius. ‘Sirius rises late in the dark, liquid sky / On summer nights, star of stars, / Orion's Dog they call it, brightest / Of all, but an evil portent, bringing heat / And fevers to suffering humanity.’”  
  
They all raised themselves on to their elbows and stared at him. He just shrugged. “It’s from a Muggle poem. The Iliad.”  
  
There was a pause as they settled themselves back down. Then Remus said, “I’m named after one of the mythological founders of Rome. He was raised by a wolf.”  
  
They turned to stare at Remus this time. No one had yet dared to make a wolf joke in his presence. Then, from the silence, Branwen started giggling. It was an uncontrollable, rolling kind of laughter that bubbled up without any sign of stopping. Remus lay still for a moment, then he started laughing as well. The other boys joined in and soon they were convulsing with the sheer joy of being able to laugh and be alive and be together, happy and safe.  
  
Before long though, the summer heat began to dissipate, replaced by the chill of night. Sirius finally stood. “I suppose I should go home.”  
  
“But, Siri….”  
  
“It’s all right, Bran. It’s not like I’m dying. I’ll see you guys on the train, yeah?”  
  
They nodded and solemnly followed him downstairs. Despite his protests that it was not his funeral to which he went, they were all subdued. When they reached the fireplace and placed some of the Floo Powder in his hand, they all gave him a final hug before he threw it in and disappeared.

  
  


The next afternoon, a strange owl flew through James’ window, dropping a letter in his lap, and soaring away before he could even open the envelope.  
Dear James,  
Just wanted to let you know I made it back. And I’m still alive. Mother was furious of course, but Reg said he didn’t see anyone else in the house that night, so you guys are safe. The locks are on the outside of my door now though and there’s a lock on the Powder box too. No more escapes, I’m afraid. Mother also said that she’ll be doing my school shopping by owl-order this year, so I won’t see you in Diagon Alley. She hasn’t said anything more about changing Houses though, here’s hoping your dad scared her out of it.  
S.O.B.  
P.S. Don’t send a reply. She’s intercepting any mail.  
P.P.S. Thank you. For everything.  
P.P.P.S. Say hi to Bran  
P.P.P.P.S. Do you know what the P’s stand for?  
P.P.P.P.P.S. Because I don’t

  
  


Remus and Peter went home a week later, and the friends didn’t see each other again until the first of September, although Remus also received an owl, the day after the August full moon. It brought a package of chocolate and a note that said, “Thinking of you. Bran.”


	19. The Seeker

Walburga Black was true to her word and kept her oldest son isolated until the moment he boarded the Hogwarts Express.

“Do you think he’ll be here?” Branwen leaned out the door of the compartment, looking desperately for their friend. It wasn’t until the train was already swaying down the tracks that she saw him stalking down the aisle. “Siri!” She darted out and threw her arms around his neck. “We were so worried!” She dragged him back into the compartment. “Found him!”

The boys all jumped up at their friend’s entrance. They embraced with the awkward affection unique to boys becoming simultaneously aware of and embarrassed by their masculinity. “You okay, mate?” James finally asked. “I’ve never see you so….clean.”

It was true that their friend looked entirely unnatural. His hair, which had been cut to ear length, was split down the middle and plastered to his skull with what appeared to be a gallon of Sleekeazy's gel. Both his white button up shirt and black slacks looked almost too starched for movement.

Sirius only grinned though. He ripped his spotless shirt off and used it like a towel to rub his hair. Most of the gel came off in oily streaks and his hair ended up ruffled in an unintentionally attractive way. Branwen looked away quickly though,because she saw the bruises that littered his arms and knew why they were there.

“Well, you lads ready for the best year ever?” James leaned back in his seat, throwing an arm around Sirius.

Branwen frowned. “What’s going to make this year better than the others?”

“Well, first of all, Bon-Bon,” he reached across and mussed her otherwise perfect hair, “you are going to become the new star Seeker of the prestigious Gryffindor Quidditch team!”

“Oh yeah!” She brightened up. “Well, if I make it through try-outs.”

Remus smiled. “We’ve all seen you fly, Bran. Fairchild would have to be blind not to pick you.”

She blushed.

Sirius continued. “Plus, this is the year we finally get to go to Hogsmeade.”

“Yes!” James pumped his fist in the air. “Wait, how did you get your mum to agree to sign your form?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes her nasty pride works in my favour. She didn’t want anyone to question what one of the Noble and Most Ancient Blacks could have done to deserve staying at the castle.”

Branwen huffed and pouted, “I hate being a year younger. I don’t want to stay at school alone.”

“Well,” James poked her on the nose, “if you’re nice to your big brother, I’ll let you use the cloak to come with us.”

“That’s so boring though, having to stay hidden. I hate the stupid tradition of giving the Cloak to the first-born Potter. They should give it to the smartest.”

“That would still be me,” James laughed.

“You wish! Who was the first to figure out about Remus? Hm? Who saved your arse that time you scorched Mum’s favourite rug? And the time you flew your broom down Tottenham Court Road?”

“Yeah, and who’s been paving the way for you at Hogwarts? Making sure you ace all your classes?”

She scoffed. “Not you, that’s for sure.”

The door to the compartment slid open and Lily Evans stuck her head. “Potter. I should have known. Look, as much as I sympathise with your sibling rivalry, some of us are trying to get homework done and your voice carries like an Erumpet in season!”

“Homework?” Peter asked. “But we haven’t got any yet.”

“Severus and I are looking ahead to some of the more advanced Potions.”

James rolled his eyes and pinched his nose in an imitation of the hook-nosed Severus. “Don’t tell me you’re still hanging around that snivelling Slytherin.”

Sirius rocked back and forth in laughter.

Lily whipped out her wand and cast it at both boys. In a matter of seconds enormous green bogeys in the shape of bats were flying out their noses.

“Lily!” Branwen jumped up. “Cut that out right now!”

She rolled her eyes. “Finite.”

The bats vanished and James and Sirius were left with drops of blood trickling from their noses.

“What was that?” Peter asked in awe.

“The bat-bogey hex. Which you would all know if you paid attention to your studies.” She tossed her auburn hair over her shoulder and marched back to her own compartment.

James, still holding the cuff of his sleeve to his nose, gasped. “I am so in love with her.”

Remus smirked. “Only you would be in love with a girl who hates your guts.”

“Boys,” Branwen rolled her eyes. “Anyway, you’ve forgotten the most important part of this year,” she stood and made sure that compartment door was locked, “we have to start the Animagus process.” She pulled out a piece of parchment on which she had written all the instructions. It was intimidatingly large.

“What’s first?” Peter asked.

“Well, first we have to hold the leaf of a mandrake in our mouths for a month.”

Sirius groaned, but James said, “You’re going to be in charge of that, Bran. You’ll be doing Mandrakes in Herbology this year. Besides, Sprout likes you best, so you’re least likely to get detention.”

“Fine. We also need to have a chrysalis of a Death’s Head Hawk-Moth. Well, one for each of us. I don’t know where to find those.”

“We’re taking Care of Magical Creatures this year,” James indicated himself and the others. “We’ll talk to Professor Kettleburn about it.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot that you guys get to take electives this year. What else are you taking?”

“This git talked us into Ancient Runes,” Sirius gave Remus a soft kick to the shin.

“Luckies,” Branwen pouted. “I wanted to take that class.”

“Merlin, you two are such nerds.”

Branwen and Remus smiled at each other.

The rest of the journey passed uneventfully, as did their arrival at Hogwarts, and beginning of classes. It wasn’t until the second week of the school year that Branwen made the first move on their ambition Animagus plan.

Their lesson for that day in Herbology was centred around repotting young Mandrakes. As the class drew to a close and the students removed their protective earmuffs, Branwen raised her hand. “Excuse me, Professor?”

“Yes, Miss Potter?” Sprout sent a repairing spell in the direction of Llynley Cartwright who had managed to break at least three of her pots.

“Well, I was wondering, will these be _our_ Mandrakes for the year? I mean, will we have the same ones each class?”

“I’m not sure that it matters, dear. All the plants are identical.”

“Yes, well, you see….I’ve grown attached to this little guy,” she awkwardly patted the plant’s broad leaves. “I’ve named him and everything.”

“What exactly have you named him, Miss Potter?”

“Stanley.”

Sprout rolled her eyes. Branwen Potter certainly had some very odd questions. Still, she was better than her brother who, only yesterday, had “accidentally” shot a bean pod up his friend Peter’s nose.

“Very well, Miss Potter.” With a flick of her wand, the name _Stanley_ carved itself into the clay pot. “Would anyone else like to keep their own Mandrake?”

Charity Burbage raised her hand. “Mine is named George.”

With Sprout’s attention on Charity, Branwen grabbed one of the nearby shears and neatly clipped four broad leaves from “Stanley” just before the bell dismissed them. She pressed them gingerly between the pages of her textbook then followed the rest of the Gryffindors toward their History of Magic class.

That evening, Branwen motioned excitedly to her brother and friends. “I have them!” She pulled out the leaves and handed one each to James, Sirius, and Peter. “And it’s perfect timing. The full moon is in two days and the book says that we have to keep them in our mouths from full moon to full moon.”

“Um, question,” Sirius raised his hand as though he were in class, “how are we going to eat with this thing in our mouths.”

“Yeah,” Peter rubbed his stomach. “I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t go a month without eating.”

“Well, um….”

“What about a sticking charm?” James suggested.

“Yeah? And where are we going to stick it?” Sirius sniggered.

Remus rolled his eyes. “Your mouth, idiot. You have another problem though. What excuse are you going to give for keeping your mouths shut? Everyone knows you can’t go five minutes without some kind of ridiculous comment.”

“Laryngitis? Peter suggested.

Remus shook his head. “No good. Any kind of illness and you’ll be sent straight to Pomfrey.”

“A bet?” Sirius suggested.

“I don’t know,” Branwen mused, “We may be able to get it past Binns and Slughorn but I think McGonagall will see right through it.”

“Well, she can’t _force_ us to talk, can she?” Peter asked.

Sirius shrugged. “Minnie is a force to be reckoned with.”

“Well, maybe we don’t need to come up with an excuse. With a sticking charm it may stay in enough for us talk at least a little bit. I suppose it will have to if we’re going to able to eat with it.”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “Does that mean everything will taste like Mandrake?”

“Who knows?” Branwen shrugged. “But it’ll be worth it. Just remember why we’re doing this. When we’re done, Remus will never have to be alone again.”

Their friend ducked his head, but they could still see a red tinge beneath his light brown hair and he mumbled, “Thanks.”

Two nights later, the friends followed Remus to the Shrieking Shack. “This’ll be the last time we can talk to you, I suppose. At least, in long conversations,” Branwen said reluctantly. “So, be safe.” She wrapped him in a tight hug.

“Yeah,” Sirius clapped his shoulder, “good luck, mate.”

As Remus clambered up into the Shack, the other four pushed their leaves to the tops of their mouths and performed the sticking charm.

The night seemed to stretch on endlessly as they didn’t dare to open their mouths, worried that, despite the charm, the leaf would fall out. When they were finally back in the hospital wing, Branwen kept flitting around, miming all the things she thought Remus might need: a glass of water, a cold cloth, more blankets. Finally, he caught her by the wrist and said, “Bran, you’re driving me up a wall. Just sit.” So she sat, hands in her lap, until he drifted off to sleep.

They went two days with the leaf. By eating carefully and speaking in single syllables, they got along fairly well. Before the moon, Remus had also helped them charm a set of slates to spell out their longer thoughts when they tapped it with their wands.

The boys continued to drift into the hospital wing over the next few day to visit with their friend. Peter brought him his homework and James and Sirius kept him entertained with pantomimes of happenings around the school.

Branwen didn’t visit until a few days later. She walked in slowly, her face pale and drawn.

“Bran?” Remus was on the mend and able to lift himself onto his elbow. “Are you all right?”

She sat on the chair at his bedside and tapped her slate. “Quidditch try-outs today.”

“Is that all?” Remus chuckled. “Bran, don’t tell James or Sirius, but you’re the best flyer I’ve ever seen. And that includes the time my dad took me to see the Caerphilly Catapults. You’ll outstrip them all.”

She flushed a bright pink and gave a tight smile. “Come to watch?” she murmured.

“Yeah, of course.”

Later that afternoon, Branwen emerged from the girls’ locker room, dressed in dark sweats and a scarlet Holyhead Harpies sweatshirt. She clutched her new Nimbus 1001 in a white-knuckled grip. She had been flying before she could walk, but there was something especially nerve-wracking about appearing in front of her friends and the other members of the team, all older than her.

She glanced toward the stands, then smiled. Remus was there. He had a sling around one arm and a bruise that was slowly diminishing over his left eye, but he was there and her heart swelled. Peter was beside him andthey held a banner between themselves that read: No One Better Than Potter Junior. No Choice but to Choose Her!

Peter also held a smaller sign that said, “This was James’ idea.”

Heartily cheered, Branwen strode confidentially onto the pitch.

Bailey Fairchild was standing at the centre of the field, surrounded by three other Seeker hopefuls. “All right, ladies and gents,” she announced as Branwen approached, “I’m going to have the other players practise around you, so it feels more like a real game. I’m not interested in if you can catch a Snitch in perfect conditions.

“You’ll all be competing against each other. First one to catch the Snitch has a spot on the team.” She mounted her broom and the other players followed suit. With a blow of her whistle, she kicked open the box containing the four balls and the game was on.

The three other Seeker candidates did their best to follow the path of the tiny golden Snitch out of the box,zooming into the distance. That was their problem, Branwen thought smugly.

She chose to soar high above the pitch and began to scan the area below. The laps she made around the stadium were almost lazy compared to the frantic zipping of her fellow contenders. Her eyes were busy though, flitting around every nook and cranny in search of the tiny golden orb.

She had almost begun to doubt her own strategythough, when, suddenly, there is was, hovering at the top of the highest goalpost.

She bit her lip, considering her options, then made a decision.

With an unearthly burst of speed, she dove toward the bottom of the post. Two of the other Seekers spotted her and immediately followed, diving for the ground despite not seeing the Snitch themselves. At the very last second, Branwen yanked her broom up, soaring parallel to the post. One of the contenders was too late. She smashed into the ground with a resounding thud. Branwen didn’t stop to see if the cracking sound was that of bones or broom. She was too busy racing vertically, the last Seeker hot on her tail.

With her fingertips stretched as far as possible, she reached the Snitch only a fraction of a second before her opponent. It wasn’t enough to keep the noses of the two brooms from colliding though. Already in a precariously unbalanced position, Branwen tumbled backward, head over heels, toward the ground.

“Arresto Momento!” It was Remus’ voice that rang out, cushioning her fall.

The next thing she knew, she was dropping softly onto her back. Unharmed from the fall, she nevertheless experience a violent choking at a blockage in her throat. She gasped for breath that wouldn’t come.

Bailey ran over. “Ace flying, Potter! You’re on the team!”

The other team members surrounded her, shaking her hand and patting her on the back. Still, she coughed and coughed, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Bran,” Remus was at her side, “what’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth, then wailed, “I swallowed it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grr. Still struggling with formatting here. If it's too much, leave comment and I'll see what I can do about fixing it.


	20. Games

Despite the fact that she had achieved her lifelong goal, Branwen was inconsolable over her loss of the Mandrake leaf.  
  
“No one expected you to get it on the first try,” Remus smiled at her, but the frown he received told him that she had expected exactly that.  
  
“The funny part is,” Sirius was checking himself for pimples in a mirror, “I would have bet about a hundred galleons Peter would’ve been the first to lose it.”  
  
“Hey!” Peter exclaimed, then sighed. “No, you’re right. I thought it would be me too.”  
  
“Well, it isn’t the end of the world,” James patted Peter on the back. “We’ll just start again next month.”  
  
Branwen brightened a bit. “That’s true. And if we’re able to finish it this time, we’ll be done before the first Quidditch match!”  
  
“But not before the first Hogsmeade weekend,” Sirius groaned, turning back to his friends.  
  
“Do I still get to come with you if I stay under the cloak?”  
  
James rolled his eyes. “Fine. Like you said, though, it won’t be much fun if you can’t talk or be seen or heard.”  
  
Branwen deflated a bit at this.  
  
“Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to slip you something from Honeydukes,” Remus laid a hand her shoulder.  
  
“The real question,” James began pacing, “is how to get the leaf to really stick this time.”  
  
“Well, we used a regular sticking charm last time,” Peter said. “What about a permanent one?”  
  
“And walk around with a leaf in your mouth for the rest of your life?” Sirius smacked him upside the head.  
  
“Just a thought,” he mumbled.  
  
“I think we just need to try that charm again,” Branwen said. “I’ll try really hard to keep it in this time. Maybe….maybe we should reapply the charm everyday. Maybe it just wore off!”  
  
“It’s worth a shot. Good thinking, Bon-Bon.”  
  
“Where are we on the moths?” she asked.  
  
Remus spoke up. “Kettleburn says he doesn’t have any. Says they’re too tame. We might have to catch them ourselves.”  
  
“Where can we find them?”  
  
“Probably the Forbidden Forest.”  
  
“Of course,” Peter groaned.

  
  
The night of the full moon followed the procedure of the previous. When Remus woke up the morning after, his friends grunted a short “G’morning,” but were otherwise silent. Since it was still the early hours of the morning, the boys decided to drift back to their dorm in hopes of a nap before breakfast. Only Branwen remained. She had taken to sitting on the floor beside his bed, her head resting on the mattress. She was asleep with her mouth slightly open (the mandrake leaf just visible on her palate) and the autumn sun shone on her with a reflective light.  
  
Remus lifted a trembling hand. Branwen’s hair was like her brother’s only in colour; while James’ looked constantly windblown, she never had a single strand out of place. Remus wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through it. It had a shine like the coat of a sleek black mare. He smiled when his hand came to rest on her head and it was exactly as he had imagined. Soft and silky to the touch.  
  
When she stirred, first sighing then smiling, he withdrew his hand. When he touched her again, it was to give her a soft poke in the shoulder. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”  
  
She yawned, her mouth opening wide before she snapped it shut. Sitting up, she groped for her slate and tapped it with her wand. “Good morning. Feel okay?”  
  
He shrugged and tried to hold back a wince. “I’m all right. But you need to go get something to eat. Don’t you have Quidditch practise tonight?”  
  
She nodded, wide awake now.  
  
“Shall I come watch?”  
  
She shook her head vigorously. “You. Need. Rest.”  
  
He rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. His leg had only just finished repairing itself from a break in the femur. Despite his offer, he knew he wouldn’t be moving from his bed for a few days. Branwen squeezed his hand, pressing a piece of chocolate into it, then scurried from the room.

Branwen’s first official practise went much better than her try-out, so far as not swallowing the leaf again. Bailey Fairchild was in her final year, and she was determined to shape her team into a winning force. She had spent the summer holiday studying Quidditch techniques from past winning teams and devising her own unique set of exercises.  
  
She charmed a series of Quaffles to shoot themselves randomly at Keeper Alex Jordan. Bailey, James, and fellow Chaser Edgar Bones were to throw another set of Quaffles at each other from nearly every position possible on a broom. For a twist, she released nearly a dozen Snitches onto the pitch. The first six were numbered and Branwen was tasked with catching and releasing them in order. The final six, painted red, were for Beaters Sirius and Kingsley Shacklebolt to hit at, the idea being that if they could hit something that small, they would have no problem with a Bludger.  
  
Branwen went straight from practise back to the hospital wing, sweaty and smiling. Remus set his book down and grinned when he saw her. Her slate was around her neck again and her face was pink and chapped from the autumn winds. “How was practise?” he asked.  
  
She tapped the slate. “Amazing! Bailey’s such a great captain. I feel like I could win a game right now.”  
  
He chuckled and she took a seat beside his bed. She spent most of the weekend with him, doing homework and playing games. He taught her the Muggle game of “Hangman” and they played on her slate, coming up with increasingly bizarre words for the other to crack. Branwen eventually had to institute a “no-Welsh” rule after Remus kept trying to play words like “cwtch” and “cigfran.”

  
  
A few weeks later, the boys were preparing for their first Hogsmeade trip. The Mandrakes, so far, hadn’t budged, so it was a silent sort of excitement that filled the air of their dorm. Sirius kept pulling out dozens of his shirts and ties, trying on one and then another in front of the mirror on his wardrobe. Peter frowned at his own plain t-shirts and sweaters, while Remus read “Sites of Historical Sorcery”, which featured notes on the village. Only James looked dejected as he laid on his back, his head hanging from his bed.  
  
“What’s wrong with him?” Branwen strolled in and tapped her slate, nodding toward her brother.  
  
Remus looked up and chuckled. “He asked Lily to go to Hogsmeade with him tomorrow and she turned him down.”  
  
Branwen’s slate said, “Poor baby,” but her eyes were smiling.  
  
Then she used her wand to tap James’ bedpost, calling the boys’ attention to her. James didn’t move, only rolled his eyes in her direction. Sirius turned around, dressed only his silk boxers and a glaring houndstooth tie.  
  
Branwen stood on a chair with her slate held up. “We’re doing great with our leaves. But where are we on the moths?”  
  
They all shrugged. “That’s what I thought. We need to make it a priority!”  
  
“Fine,” James hauled himself upright. “We’ll start on Monday.”  
  
Branwen nodded, then hopped down.


	21. Calchas' Prophecy

Branwen pressed her ear to the door of her dorm, waiting for the common room to empty. There was a tumultuous rush of students third-year and up, all cheering and bubbling with excitement for their rare day out of the castle grounds. When it finally quieted, she crept in. The only occupants were a few first-years playing Gobstones in a corner and Peter, who was huffing to pull on his Wellies.  
  
“Peter,” Branwen had to tap her slate several times before she caught his attention. When he looked up, she spelled out, “Tell James I’m not going to Hogsmeade with you. Someone has to get those moths.”  
  
“But James said we would get them on Monday.”  
  
Branwen rolled her eyes. “We have Quidditch practise on Mondays. I don’t know if he just forgot or if he’s trying to put this off, but we need those moths. Otherwise all this leaf stuff will be for nothing. Besides, this will be a better use of my time than sitting under a cloak all day.”  
  
Peter considered this for a moment, then shrugged and hurried out the portrait hole.  
  
Branwen followed, close on his heels, but as her friend ran toward the Entrance Hall, she peeled off and slipped through one of the side doors. Yanking the Cloak from her school bag, she threw it over her head. There may not have been a rule against second-years strolling the grounds, but there was definitely one against heading straight for the Forbidden Forest, as she was now.  
  
Branwen followed the footpath that led to Professor Kettleburn’s cabin, where Care of Magical Creatures classes were held. She could see the shadows of flying creatures through the windows, moving against golden fire light. Outside, a stone paddock housed a combination of hippogriffs and mooncalves. A pale, tremulous Augurey perched in a large wicker cage, its mournful cry floating across the school grounds.  
  
Augureys were said to predict rain, though this one couldn’t tell Branwen anything she didn’t already know. The day was a heavy and grey one. The landscape was draped in the same mist as the clouds that hung low and dense; the air already smelled of thunder and damp clothes.  
  
The closer she got to the cabin, the louder the noises from the creatures in the yard became. Branwen darted toward the treeline. Having not taken the class yet, she had no way of knowing if there was a magical creature in there that could see through Invisibility Cloaks.  
  
Soon enough, she was so far within the trees that there was no longer any worry of being seen. She slipped the cloak off and balled it up into her bag, then pulled out a small butterfly net. At home, she used it to catch and release billywigs that wandered into the house. Based on the pictures she saw in Insects of the Muggle World, the moths should be about the same size.  
  
The further Branwen walked though, the more she realised that her “plan” was essentially non-existent. Where does one even begin to look for a moth in a forest? She would rather have been presented with a haystack in which to find a needle.  
  
She paused for a moment to collect herself and take in her surroundings. It was like something primeval; it may, in fact, have been primeval, existing in its current state, untouched by Muggle or wizard for thousands of years. The trees lofted into the sky, their peaks lost in the watery atmosphere. Cloud and fog became one, misting the forest in a grey, dripping veil. In the eerie silence, the water droplets that plopped from curling ferns and mossy rocks sounded like rushing waterfalls. Then a footstep sounded.  
  
It wasn’t just a footstep though. It was as if a herd of trolls were was crashing through the undergrowth. Branwen’s heart began to race and her eyes darted around for a place to hide. She flung herself behind a boulder that could have easily been a small mountain, just before a voice carried over the noise of the steps.  
  
“Oh, come an’ stir my cauldron / An’ if you do it right / I'll boil ya up some hot, strong love / Ta keep ya warm tonight!”  
  
Branwen’s ears were so trained on the gravelly voice, she didn’t notice a small, brindle ball of fur dart out from between the rotting logs around her. It let out a sharp yapping.  
  
“Oi! Brutus! What’re you on about?” The singing voice stopped and the tramping turned in her direction. When its owner finally appeared from around the boulder, Branwen fell back in fright.  
  
She was staring up at a man at least twice the size of any she had ever seen. His beetle black eyes shone out from a grizzled mane that flowed into a wiry beard. His face was weather-beaten, but the lines around his eyes bespoke years of laughter. He smiled now as he bent down. Even bowing at his lowest, he hovered far above her head.  
  
“And what migh’ you be doing out here?”  
  
The dog, Brutus, continued to yap around her, then leaped into her lap to kiss her face. Still shaking, Branwen reached around Brutus for her slate and her wand. “I’m….looking for something.”  
  
“Oh. Dumb, are we?”  
  
When she frowned up at him, he chuckled and she could feel the reverberations through the ground. “I don’ mean it like that. Meant can’t speak. Mute.”  
  
Branwen smiled then nodded.  
  
“Well, if you can hear though, you gotta know you aren’ s’pposed to be here. Forbidden Forest isn’t called that cause it’s invitin’.”  
  
Thinking as quickly as she could, Branwen wrote, “But I lost my pet.”  
  
“Oh. Uh, what kind of critter is it?”  
  
“A moth.”  
  
He stretched up and whistled. “Well, darlin’, I hate to break it to you, but I’m afraid somethin’ like that’s going be impossible to find out here.”  
  
“Well….” she thought hard, “maybe we could find one just like it. He was a gift from my aunt.”  
  
She could hear him mumble, “What kind of aunt gives a kid a moth?” Then louder he said, “What kind of moth was it, darlin’?”  
  
She lifted her slate. “Death's-head hawkmoth.”  
  
He whistled again. “Well, I s’pect we might be able to find a few of the blighters around. Come on,” he held out his hand to lift her up and ended up grabbing nearly her entire arm. “I’m Hagrid, by the way. Gamekeeper here at Hogwarts.”  
  
She smiled. “Branwen Potter.”  
  
Together, the pair set off deeper into the forest, Brutus darting back and forth, chasing fairies and small songbirds.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter stumbled in his over-large Wellies as he ran down the steps of the Entrance Hall to catch up with his friends. James, Sirius, and Remus had already passed their permission slips to Filch who grudgingly let them by.  
  
“Peter! Hurry up, mate!” Sirius tapped his slate impatiently while the caretaker inspected his friend’s papers.  
  
Once Peter caught up to them, James threw an arm around his shoulder, grinning and glancing around. “Where’s Bran?” his slate said.  
  
Sirius stuck his arms out, miming feeling his way through the dark.  
  
“She’s not here,” Peter mumbled. Then his slate said, “She went into the Forbidden Forest to look for those dumb moths.”  
  
The three boys stopped in their tracks. They each wore a mask of violent emotion. Fear, nearer to terror, was etched on Remus’ face. James was trembling with anger, his hands clenched into fists. Sirius ran forward and grabbed Peter by his shirt pockets. He didn’t need his slate to convey the disgust he felt for his friend. Tossing him away, he turned on his heel and ran in the opposite direction, following James and Remus who were already nearing the Forest’s edge. Peter cursed under his breath, then raced after them.  
  
As the boys caught up with each other, James glanced at them, then pointed to his mouth.  
  
Remus shook his head. “If you take that out, she’ll kill you.”  
  
James reached defiantly into his mouth and yanked out the leaf. “Then it’s a lose-lose, because if I don’t find her, I’ll kill myself.”  
  
Sirius and Peter followed James’ example. Remus said nothing, but trudged ahead into the thick bracken of the forest floor. They all fanned out, cupping their hands around their mouths and yelling. Their voices echoed through the empty spaces between the ancient trees.  
  
“Branwen!”  
  
“Bran!”  
  
“Branwen!”  
  
“Bon-Bon!”  
  
The worst of scenarios were racing through James’ mind. What tortures was his baby sister enduring even now? Was she being bled dry by a Vampire? Cooked into a stew by a Hag? Torn limb from limb by a Werewolf?….Oh, wait.  
  
James stopped to snicker at his own joke when he heard the stamp of a large foot. Or rather, he saw when he turned around, a large hoof. He and his friends were surrounded by a herd of centaurs.  
  
They stood as still as statues with only occasional flicks of their tails to distinguish them from any of the other stoic features of the forest. The largest among them had the body and legs of an enormous Shire horse, with long feathered legs and hooves the size of dinner plates. With his human body towering above his equine, he was easily nine feet tall. He gazed at the boys through burning black eyes. “So. You have come.”  
  
“Where is their fifth, Calchas?” A young bay glanced around.  
  
“My sister,” James spoke up, a tremor in his voice, “we’re looking for her now.”  
  
“We know,” Calchas spoke again.  
  
“Do – do you know where she is?” Remus asked.  
  
“She is safe. With Hagrid.”  
  
“Who’s Hagrid?” Sirius licked his quickly-drying lips.  
  
None of the centaurs spoke. Then Calchas, clearly the leader, spoke in a booming voice, “We have words of wisdom for you. We are the watchers of the sky and the keepers of its secrets. Long have they told us of your coming.”  
  
A shiver ran through the boys, as though a cold wind had passed through their very bones. James swallowed and stuttered, “Wh-why? Wh-why u-us?”  
  
“Impudent foal. Interrupting a prophecy!” The bay snorted.  
  
“Silence, Nestor!” Calchas looked grave as he spoke to them again, “We have this to say to you:

A darkness has risen out of which only the young will find their way. In the crescent of the moon, love will die and love will live. The least among you will become the best of them, the best of you will become the least, and the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.


	22. The Gamekeeper of Hogwarts

The boys glanced at each other. The moment seemed too solemn to say anything, but they were bursting with questions. Finally, James, voice and body trembling, said, “Y-yes. Th-that’s all well and g-good. B-but, where’s my s-sister?”  
  
Calchas gave a tight grimace that may have been a smile. “Patroclus. Let us help these foals find what it is they seek.”  
  
A centaur with a long grey beard and the dappled body of a stout Percheron stepped forward and bent on to his front leg. Calchas followed suit. James and Sirius clambered onto Calchas, Remus and Peter onto Patroclus. The rest of the herd turned and melted into the mist of the forest.  
  
The ride was an awkward one for the boys. They didn’t know if it was appropriate to touch the naked human torso, so they wrapped their legs as best they could around the barrel of the equine body. Rain began to fall not long after they started out, causing them to slip and slide about the broad backs on which they sat.  
  
The two draught centaurs stepped easily over the nettles and fallen logs that littered the forest floor. They ploughed through where there was no path, splashing through the growing puddles and pushing aside low-hanging branches.  
  
As they rode, the words of the prophecy rang through the minds of the boys: “And the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.”  
  
Suddenly, their thoughts were shattered by a booming voice. “Looks like we got ‘em. Nasty lookin’ buggers. Hope your aunt’ll be happy with ‘em.”  
  
“Branwen! Are you there?” James fell face first into the mud as he slid off the back of the centaur. He burst into a small clearing and was met with a bizarre sight. His sister, her hair sleeked down with rain, was standing dwarfed by a man three times her height. He looked like a part of the forest, dressed in scruffy furs and sporting a wiry beard. A small dog was jumping between them, barking at a wire cage housing a pair of the biggest moths he had ever seen.  
  
“What the bloody hell?” James finally found his voice. “What are you doing here? Who’s he?”  
  
Branwen was equally taken aback when she looked up. The last thing she had expected was her brother and friends to come parading through the forest on the backs of centaurs. Sirius, Remus, and Peter were close behind James, shoving their way through bushes to reach the clearing.  
  
Hagrid waved a hand in greeting to the centaurs. “Calchas. Patroclus. Al’right?”  
  
They nodded. “Take care of these foals, Hagrid.”  
  
There was something in the undertone of Calchas’ voice that gave Hagrid pause. He nodded, his mouth pressed into a grim line. “I understand.”  
  
Calchas gave a slight nod, then the two centaurs faded back into the thick grove.  
  
“Can we get back to – to this?” With the sombre centaurs gone, James’ voice was louder and more confident. “What are you doing here, Bran?”  
  
Branwen came back to herself and tapped her slate, “Getting the moths.” Then she gasped and tapped again, furiously, “Did you take your leaves out?!”  
  
James, Sirius, and Peter looked away.  
  
“What did you expect?” Remus was close to shouting. “You disappeared into the Forbidden Forest! What if something happened to you? How were we supposed to find you? We got lucky as it was, meeting those centaurs.”  
  
Branwen glared at them, then reached in and yanked the leaf from her own mouth. “If this happens one more time, I swear to Merlin I will murder you all, one by one.”  
  
“Uh,” Hagrid scratched the back of his neck, “guess you can talk then?”  
  
“Yes,” Branwen smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry for lying to you. You’ve been so nice. But, but it was….a bet.” She gestured to the boys. “This is my brother James and our friends, Sirius, Remus, and Peter. This is Hagrid. He’s the gamekeeper here.”  
  
“Nice to meet you boys,” he nodded. “Now, maybe we should get you outta the wet. Gonna have a nasty cold if we don’t.”  
  
The five of them splashed back to the forest’s edge in the footsteps of the huge man. James was glaring at his sister, still fuming over what had led them to this weird, wet set of circumstances.  
  
Remus though, kept jogging up to Branwen and peering at her through the fringe of hair dripping over his brow. “Are you sure you’re okay, Bran?”  
  
“I’m fine, Remus,” she clutched the cage tighter to her chest. But as she tripped over an enormous root jutting from the damp earth, Remus’ arms shot out to catch her. Brutus yapped even louder, nipping at his ankles until he released the girl.  
  
The comforting scent of woodsmoke wafted through the thinning trees as they approached their destination. The source came into view all at once; It was a rough house of sorts, like two stone silos smashed together. The steps, doors, and windows were all double the average size, perfect for a man of Hagrid’s size. He pushed open one of the doors and let them enter.  
  
The room that greeted them was much homier than any of them had expected. It was permeated by a warm orange glow from a roaring fire. A table with a set of chairs which must have been hewn from the same enormous trunk crowded the centre of the room. Brutus dove into a large filthy quilt that was folded on the hearth.  
  
“Yeh better get those coats off. Yer soakin’ wet.”  
  
“It’s all right.” Remus waved his wand, sending a blanket of warm air over his friends, instantly drying their coats and thawing their skin.  
  
“Ah, right handy that one is,” Hagrid smiled. “Reckon you’ll still be needin’ somethin’ to warm yer insides though.” He placed on the table a bizarre assortment of cups. There were two chipped teacups from mismatching sets, what looked like a cream jug from an entirely different set, a tin coffee cup, and, in front of Sirius, what looked like a dog’s dish. Into each of them he poured scalding tea the colour of dirty dish water. They silently stared into their cups. Only Peter was brave enough to dare the boiling liquid (and earned a blistered tongue for it).  
  
“So, you boys out ‘moth hunting’ too?” Hagrid settled into an ugly orange sofa that sagged under his weight.  
  
“Uh, well,” Sirius started, “we were on our way to Hogsmeade when we found out Bran was in the forest.”  
  
“Went without lettin’ anyone know, eh?” he winked at Bran. “Ya got lucky this time, but I wouldn’ try it again. There’s things in there would frighten ya near to death.”  
  
“I promise.” She glanced down at the fluttering moths. “Hagrid, why haven’t we seen you around Hogwarts?”  
  
“Well, I’m jus’ a gamekeeper. Nothin’ special.”  
  
“Hagrid,” James seemed to have been mulling a question over in his mind and decided to ask it, “have you ever met the centaurs before?”  
  
“The ones that dropped you off? ‘Course! Though they don’ normally let folks ride on their backs like that. Must’ve liked you a lot.”  
  
“They told us a prophecy,” Remus spoke up.  
  
“Uh-oh.”  
  
“That’s not good?”  
  
“Well,” Hagrid stroked his beard, “depends what the prophecy was about. I can tell yeh though, they’re not usually very cheery.”  
  
Peter trembled. “Do they ever come true?”  
  
Hagrid nodded solemnly. “Centaurs ain’t like reg’lr Seers. They watch the skies, yeh know. Very mysterious, but very honest. What did they tell you?”  
  
The boys eyed each other, then James recited: “A darkness has risen out of which only the young will find their way. In the crescent of the moon, love will die and love will live. The least among you will become the best of them, the best of you will become the least, and the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.”  
  
Hagrid whistled. “That’s a doozy that one is.”  
  
“Do you know what it means?” Sirius asked.  
  
“Couldn’t begin,” Hagrid shook his head. “Not really my area of expertise, yeh know. Maybe ask Professor Dumbledore. Now there’s a man who knows things.” Then he checked his saucer-sized pocket-watch. “Uh-oh. We better get you young’uns back to the castle. ‘S gettin’ late.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
“I’m sorry I made you miss your Hogsmeade day,” Branwen stared down into her mug of cocoa once she was back in the boys’ dorm. She had a large quilt wrapped around her shoulders and was hunched by the fireplace.  
  
James sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m just glad you didn’t die in there. Mum would’ve killed me.”  
  
“It was kind of exciting though,” Sirius grinned. “Imagine what else could be in there. And no prefects or professors to catch us.”  
  
“Or find our bodies,” Peter gulped.  
  
“James is right, Bran,” Remus scolded, “if Hagrid hadn’t found you, who knows what would have happened.”  
  
“Well, we wouldn’t have those moths, that’s for sure,” she gestured with her mug toward the cage of fluttering insects.  
  
Peter backed away from them. “I kind of wish we didn’t. They’re creepy.”  
  
There was a moment of silence, then Branwen grinned and bumped Remus with her shoulder. “I guess there can’t be anything worse than a werewolf out there, huh?”  
  
His brow furrowed as he tried to frown at her, but the corners of his lips twitched. James and Sirius started laughing, Peter joined in, and soon Remus and Branwen were rolling on the floor with them, the dorm filled with howls of laughter.


	23. Seeker vs Seeker

The day of Branwen’s first match dawned cold and clear. The sun shone in the sky as if it were a mid-summer day, but the ground was stiff with frost. A bone-chilling breeze swept bits of decaying leaves through the grounds and rattled the window panes. It sent a shiver through to Branwen’s bones as she followed James and Sirius to the Gryffindor locker rooms.  
  
Once in the girls’ changing area, she slipped on her brand new red game robes. “Potter” was stitched in gold over a large number 7 on the back. When she and Bailey Fairchild were finished dressing, they rejoined the boys.  
  
“All right,” the team gathered around their captain, “it’s the first game of the season. I don’t have to tell you how much is riding on this. Last year, we came embarrassingly close to losing the Quidditch Cup to Ravenclaw. That’s not going to happen this year. And, uh, Black….I didn’t want to tell you this before. Didn’t need you brooding over something during practise. But, uh, Slytherin has a new Seeker this year too. It’s your brother, Regulus.”  
  
Sirius’ eyes narrowed, but other than gripping his broom tighter, he showed no more emotion.  
  
Bailey nodded. “Well, that’s all then. If you haven’t learned it in practise, it isn’t going to do you any good now. Just go out there and win. Hands in.”  
  
The team huddled together and stuck their hands out. “Gryffindor!”  
  
Remus and Peter were waiting to meet them outside the locker room. Peter was shivering despite being wrapped in what looked like a dozen coats with a scarf tight around his neck and a hat tugged past his ears. Remus, however, was unaffected by the freezing wind even though he wore only a thick red jumper under a shabby overcoat two times his size.. Both boys had the numbers of their friends painted on their faces: 3, 5, and 7.  
  
Branwen beamed at their show of support, but Sirius shoved his way between the two, swinging his bat above his head.  
  
“Wh-what’s with h-him?” Peter’s teeth chattered.  
  
“Regulus is the new Slytherin Seeker,” James filled them in.  
  
“What’s wrong with that?” Remus asked.  
  
“Hopefully nothing,” Branwen glanced over to her friend who was still wildly swinging his bat around.  
  
“Well, tell him I said good luck,” Remus shoved his hands into his pockets. “Good luck to you too James. And Bran….well, you don’t really need luck I guess. You’re probably the best of them all.”  
  
She laughed and threw her arms around his shoulders, planting a chaste kiss to his blushing cheek, then ran off, carrying her broom.  
  
“Come on,” Peter grabbed Remus’ arm when his friend stood fixed to the spot, staring after the number 7 running onto the pitch.  
  
The two boys found a seat in the tall bleachers beside Lily and her friends Marlene McKinnon, Mary MacDonald, and Jemma Miller. Even though Jemma was in Ravenclaw, she had joined her friends in painting their faces in Gryffindor red and gold. They held a banner between themselves that read “Gryffindor” and had a charmed drawing of a lion that actually roared.  
  
“Evans,” Remus greeted her as he sat.  
  
“Lupin. Think your little friend is going to win us the match today?”  
  
He shrugged. “She’s the best I’ve ever seen.”  
  
“Better be,” she murmured.  
  
He chuckled. “You really get into this Quidditch stuff, huh? Even though you don’t play?”  
  
“Well, I apologise for being a muggle-born and not growing up with a broom, like the rest of you. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the sport now though.”  
  
“Sure, sure. I didn’t mean to offend.”  
  
She smiled softly. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just….being muggle-born….some people….”  
  
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I get it. Some people just can’t look past their prejudices.”  
  
She glanced sideways at him, a question on her lips, but before she could speak, the drawling voice of the match’s commentator resounded through the stands. “Good morning, students of Hogwarts.”  
  
The Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff stands echoed with groans and boos. Lucius Malfoy was far from an expert on Quidditch and his upper-class enunciation always left him a beat behind the action. They knew it was only through his position as Head Boy that he had snagged the extra title of game-day announcer.  
  
“Today will see the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams face off. We have an interesting setup today. Siblings James and Branwen Potter will be playing for Gryffindor, while brothers Sirius and Regulus Black will be battling on opposite sides. Today will show us which Pureblood family will come out on top.  
  
“Captains Bailey Fairchild and Tarquin McTavish are now meeting in the middle of the pitch for the traditional and completely non-binding handshake of good sportsmanship. Madam Hooch releases the balls and the game has begun.  
  
“The female Potter rises above the pitch as her brother takes first possession of the Quaffle. Potter passes to Bones who passes to Fairchild, back to Potter who is blocked at the Slytherin goal with a beautiful manoeuvre from Keeper Dante Shore.  
  
“Quaffle now in possession of Wilkes but Shacklebolt sends a nasty Bludger in his direction causing an unfortunate fumble.  
  
“Quaffle now picked up by Potter. He’s back down the pitch and this time Shore can’t move his lazy arse fast enough. Ten points to Gryffindor.”  
  
The teams found themselves nearly equal in skill; at the end of an hour, the score was 70-70. Branwen and Regulus were drifting around the pitch, circling the goalposts and the stands. The snitch was no where to be seen.  
  
Sirius had been kept busy with Bludgers darting left and right, but as Kingsley was capably handling things for the moment, he reclined on his broom above the Gryffindor crowd. The sharp autumn breeze whipped his hair back attractively and several of the girls whistled.  
  
“Sirius! Sirius!” It took him a moment to realise that the voice calling out was male and another moment to realise that it belonged to Remus. His friend was jumping up and down and pointing behind Sirius. Sirius spun around on his broom.  
  
Branwen and Regulus had spotted the Snitch simultaneously. It had been hovering over the Ravenclaw stands and now was zig-zagging, first skimming the ground, then leaping in amongst the crowd. The two Seekers were racing each other from opposite angles. If they continued their trajectories, they would crash head-on.  
  
Sirius raised his bat to cheer on Branwen, then saw it. There was a Bludger coursing straight for Regulus, who was completely oblivious, the wind and crowd roaring in his ears. If the Bludger connected, Regulus would be unseated, Branwen would have the Snitch, and the game would be Gryffindor’s.  
  
But Sirius found himself racing toward his brother. As soon as he was in arm’s length, he stretched out his bat and sent the Bludger flying. Regulus ignored the motion beside him and in a second had the Snitch flapping in his fingers. He held it up, grinning to Slytherin cheers, but the majority of the crowd was gasping and booing.  
  
Lucius’ voice broke through the confusion. “Gryffindor Black saves his brother from a run-in with a Bludger and hands the win to Slytherin, shamefully taking out his own teammate in the process. It seems the errant Bludger has collided with the female Potter. Yes, and down she goes.”  
  
Branwen was on the ground before any of her teammates could react. There was a near riot amongst the crowd. Remus and Peter were among the first to leap from the stands. They raced onto the pitch (Peter stumbling to catch up after he tripped in a low-hanging banner). They joined James, Sirius and the rest of the Gryffindor team surrounding Branwen’s still body. Her arm was snapped at an awkward angle and her nose was askew, pouring blood down her lips and chin.  
  
“Get out of the way!” Remus growled and shoved at the growing crowd of onlookers.  
  
“Come on. We have to get her to hospital.” James had his sister’s broken body cradled in his arms. He followed in the wake of Remus and Peter who were pushing students away left and right. Sirius was nowhere to be seen.


	24. Sibling Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius angst

When Branwen regained consciousness, everything was dark. She was reminded of the abyss that was the Black parlour. At the thought of the Black family, the events of the Quidditch match came rushing back. She groaned.  
  
“She’s awake!”  
  
“Finally!”  
  
“Stand back, gits.”  
  
“Bon-Bon? You there?”  
  
Her eyelids reluctantly stretched open. It was still dark, but it was now soft darkness of night in the hospital wing. James, illuminated by the golden glow of lamplight, was sitting on the edge of her bed, clutching one of her hands to his chest. His hair, impossibly tangled from the wind, was plastered to his forehead with sweat. He still wore his Quidditch uniform, and there were brownish stains on the scarlet robe that looked like blood. Her own, Branwen presumed.  
  
Peter sat in the bedside chair, twisting his sweater in his hands, looking terribly uncomfortable. The painted numbers on his face had smudged, leaving black streaks across his face.  
  
Branwen’s eyes settled on Remus. “Hey. Did we switch places?”  
  
He was mirroring the position she usually took after full moons, kneeling at the beside, her hand held in his. He smiled, but said nothing as his bright green eyes searched her over, checking for any sign of pain.  
  
She turned to James. “What happened?”  
  
He glanced across the room. Following his gaze, Branwen saw Sirius pacing near the dark windows. A storm was blowing outside and he was briefly lit by a flash of lightning. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets and his face was obscured by his long, tangled locks.  
  
James cleared his throat. “You got hit by a Bludger. Broke your arm. When you hit the ground you broke your nose too.”  
  
Branwen pulled her left hand from Remus’ grasp and used it to prod at her right arm, then at her nose. “All better I think. A couple of broken bones isn’t really a challenge for Madam Pomfrey, I suppose.”  
  
Remus gently poked her ribs and smiled. “Be grateful that was all that happened. Probably won’t even leave a scar.”  
  
“Aw,” she pretended to pout, “and I was hoping we could be matching.”  
  
“James,” Peter spoke up, “are you going to tell Sirius?”  
  
James released his sister’s hand and laid it on her chest. “Siri. She’s awake,” he called.  
  
Sirius ran over, knocking Remus aside. “Bran! You’re alive? Thank Merlin!” He fell down and started crying.  
  
Branwen was too startled to say anything, so her brother leaned forward and whispered, “He thinks it’s his fault you ended up here.”  
  
Her eyes went wide. “Why?”  
  
“It kind of is,” Peter said.  
  
“Siri,” Branwen laid a hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”  
  
He lifted his head, tear tracks ploughing through his sweaty, grimy face. “I saw the Bludger going for Regulus. I don’t know why, I just went for it. I had to get it away from him. So I just – swung. And it went for you instead. It’s all my fault. My fault you broke your arm. My fault we lost the match. Bailey’s already chewed me out, threatened to throw me off the team….”  
  
“Oh, Siri,” she cradled his head as best she could. “You did nothing wrong. I’m sure James would have done the same for me.”  
  
“You don’t understand,” he shook his head. “I was trying to protect my brother and I ended up hurting my sister. You’re a sister to me, Bran, and I can’t believe it’s my fault you’re hurt like this.”  
  
Branwen sighed. “You’re my brother too, Sirius, but really, a silly broken arm isn’t worth all this fuss.”  
  
Remus had righted himself after Sirius’ careless push, and came to stand by Branwen’s head. “She’s right, Sirius. She’ll be out catching that Snitch again come Monday morning.”  
  
At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over. “Boys, you know not to crowd the patient. Out of the way, please.” They parted and the Healer placed her hands on her hips, frowning down at Branwen. “Once a month visits weren’t enough for you, Miss Potter?”  
  
Branwen blushed.  
  
“Well, let me see that arm.” Madam Pomfrey checked her over, using her wand to detect any lingering cracks in the bones. She checked her temperature, her pulse, and her respiration. “Very well, young lady. Get out of here and don’t let me see you again. At least for another week.” She winked.  
  
Remus and James each took one of Branwen’s arms. “Boys,” she rolled her eyes, “my arm was broken, not my legs. And anyway, I’m fine now.”  
  
“I don’t care what Pomfrey says. You need rest.” Sirius shoved the other boys aside and scooped her up, bridal style.  
  
“Sirius! Let me go!” She smacked him hard on the chest and squirmed, kicking and thrashing.  
  
“Drop her, Siri.” They had made it out of the hospital wing and into the hall when Regulus stepped from the shadows.  
  
Sirius set Branwen down and she ran back into the comforting arms of the other boys.  
  
“That was stupid, what you did, Sirius. You shouldn’t have hit that Bludger away from me,” Regulus strolled toward the group.  
  
Sirius’ hands clenched into fists. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know I should have done differently? I let my entire team down and hurt one of my best friends in the world!”  
  
The closer Regulus got, the darker his face grew, anger etched into every pore. “You’ve never trusted that I could take care of myself. You should have just left that damn Bludger alone. If I’m going to win a match, I’m going to do it without any cheating help from my stupid, blood-traitor brother!”  
  
Sirius lunged forward and his fist flew into his brother’s jaw.  
  
“Sirius, no!” James left Branwen with Remus and Peter and grabbed onto Sirius’ shoulders, yanking him back. Regulus had already wound up for a counter-attack though, and his blow landed squarely on James’ nose. The sound of glass shattering echoed in the hall, followed by James swearing.  
  
“Ooh! A fight! Bitty baby brother Blacks!” Peeves, the school poltergeist came wheeling through one of the walls. He thrived on chaos and wasn’t picky about if he was the one causing it or not. He cackled and produced a Bludger from under his hat. “Run, bitty baby brother before the big bad Bludger gets you!”  
  
Regulus yanked his wand out before there was the sound of footsteps.  
  
“Ooh, the bitty baby Blacks are going to get it now!”  
  
“Peeves! I want you out of here this instance!” McGonagall came striding down the hall. She was wrapped in a tartan dressing gown with a matching nightcap over her greying hair.  
  
The poltergeist, who usually thought himself above the orders of the professors, took one look at McGonagall’s scowling face and popped off into the darkness.  
  
“I should have known,” she sighed when she saw the boys in front of her.  
  
“Regulus started it, Professor,” Peter squeaked. “James and Sirius were just defending themselves.”  
  
“Is that true?” McGonagall eyed Remus and Branwen over her square-rimmed spectacles.  
  
They shuffled and avoided her stern gaze.  
  
Sirius jumped forward defiantly. “No, Professor, it’s not true. I hit Regulus. He was trying to hit me back, but caught James by accident.”  
  
“Very well,” McGonagall sighed. “That’s detention for both of you, Mr. Black and Mr. Black. Twenty points will also be taken from Gryffindor and Slytherin apiece for fighting in the halls. I will overlook the breach of curfew from Gryffindor, as it appears Miss Potter is being escorted from the hospital wing. However, ten additional points will be taken from Slytherin for your unnecessary violation, Mr. Black. Now to bed, all of you.”  
  
Regulus spun on his heel and stalked toward the dungeons where the Slytherin dorms were.  
  
“Just a moment – come here, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall beckoned to James before they could leave. He crept forward, squinting at the professor with his glasses hanging from one ear. McGonagall picked them up and tapped them with her wand. “Oculus Reparo.” The glasses were as good as new and she perched them back on the bridge of his nose. “There. Perhaps now you can see your way back to the dorms without any diversions.”  
  
“Thank you, Professor.”  
  
The five Gryffindors slowly and silently trudged their way back to their dorms. When they entered the common room, Branwen looked at the entrance to the girls’ dorms, then grabbed her brother’s hand. “Can I….?”  
  
He nodded and led her up the stairs to his shared room. The stairway was, by now, either so used to Branwen’s presence or had come to recognise the sibling bond, that it no longer tried to prevent her from entering.  
  
Once they were in, Branwen set to work. She pulled out her wand and tapped her brother’s nose. “Episkey.” It snapped back into place with a loud yelp from James. Then she cast “Tergeo” and the blood that had trickled down his lip cleared away.  
  
Next she moved to Sirius. He had yanked the heavy curtains shut around his four-poster bed. She gently lifted the edge of one curtain and tied it back to the post. Even in the shadows of the firelight, she could see his shoulders trembling. She crawled up beside him and pulled her knees to her chest. The other boys hung back, but watched intently.  
  
“It wasn’t your fault, Siri,” Branwen whispered. “Regulus had no right speaking to you like that, calling you those names. I know you didn’t mean it when you hit him.”  
  
“But I did mean it,” Sirius didn’t turn around. “I chose to hit that Bludger. And I chose to hit Regulus. I hurt two of the people I care about the most in the world.”  
  
“Aw, am I really one of your favourite people?” Branwen smiled and poked his shoulder.  
  
He spun around, an angry frown on his face. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m just like them. Just like all the rest of my family. I act and don’t stop to think about who I’m hurting. The Sorting Hat was wrong. I should have been in Slytherin.”  
  
“Fine then! Go! Go join Malfoy and Snape and the rest.” Branwen flounced off the bed and gestured toward the door. Sirius stared at her in disbelief. “That’s what I thought. You’re just being a drama queen.” She crossed her arms and smiled. “No real Slytherin would admit their faults the way you just did and no real Black would either. You’re a Gryffindor, whether you like it or not. And if I’m your sister like you said, that makes you a Potter too.”  
  
“She’s right, mate,” James grinned. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with us.”  
  
“Gits,” Sirius mumbled and threw a pillow in the general direction of the brother and sister.  
  
“Oh, he’s done it now, hasn’t he Bon-Bon?”  
  
“Indeed, Jamie. We accept your declaration of war, Sirius Potter! Now arm yourself!”  
  
Sirius spun around. James was holding the pillow he had thrown and Branwen had snatched one from Peter’s nearby bed. They both wore malicious grins. Then, as if on cue, they pounced. The pillows came down mercilessly on Sirius, who grunted and tried to hold onto a frown.  
  
Branwen laughed and looked up, seeing Remus and Peter standing awkwardly nearby. She grabbed another pillow from Sirius’ bed and ran after the two, swatting Peter as soon as she was within reach. Remus grabbed two more pillows, tossed one to Peter, and joined the fray. By now, James had provoked Sirius into a pillow duel. Chaos broke out, pillows flying and laughter echoing.  
  
As the dawn hours drew near, none of them returned to their beds. In fact, the beds were now stripped of pillows and blankets, all piled on the floor in a makeshift fort in front of the fireplace. All five friends fell asleep, exhausted and, for the moment, happy.


	25. A Very Potter Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally nothing but pure, unadulterated, tooth-rooting Christmas fluff. It adds almost nothing to the narrative, but I can't help myself from giving my babies as much happy-time as possible.

“So….I have good news and bad news,” Branwen waltzed into the common room and threw herself on the sofa between James and Remus, “Which do you want first?”  
  
“The good,” Sirius said, “it will soften the blow.”  
  
“No, the bad,” Peter leaned over, “so we get it out of the way.”  
  
She sighed. “Okay, okay. The bad news is, Stanley’s going bald.”  
  
“Oh no!” Peter gasped. “Wait, who’s Stanley?”  
  
“My Mandrake. We’ve already had to take eight leaves from him this year. Professor Sprout says he won’t be growing any new ones until after the new year. That means we have to wait until at least January before we try the Animagus process again.” Branwen’s bottom lip stuck out in a pout and she didn’t notice the sighs of relief the boys released. None of them were looking forward to having the nasty smelling leaf in their mouths again anytime soon.  
  
“And the good news….?” Remus prompted her.  
  
She brightened instantly. “Oh yes! I checked the charts and there’s not going to be a full moon during the Christmas holidays this year. So you’ll all be coming home with James and me!”  
  
“Wha-what?” Remus was sputtering. “But I, I need to write my parents. And, and what if –”  
  
“What if nothing,” Branwen waved him away. “It’s perfect. There’s going to be a new moon on Christmas. Everything will be lovely. And we’ve already written to all your parents.”  
  
“Even mine?” Sirius grunted.  
  
“Yep,” James grinned and threw an arm around his friend’s shoulder. “They couldn’t wait to get rid of you.”  
  
“Thanks mate….I think.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ride back to London on the Hogwarts Express was one of the cheeriest the group had ever experienced. Sirius, especially, was jumping from his seat every few minutes to pace the corridor, far too excited to sit still. Remus and Peter were a little more nervous to be going somewhere other than home for the holiday, but the joy in their compartment was contagious.  
  
James led a rousing rendition of “God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs” then Peter taught them the Muggle carol “Jingle Bells.” This continued until Hufflepuff prefect Carol Salman came and shushed them. They paused only a few minutes before they picked up “Jingle Bells” again, this time using their wands to fill the compartment with the sound of actual jingling bells.  
  
When they reached Platform 9 ¾, it was obvious from where James and Branwen had inherited their Christmas spirit. Fleamont Potter was waiting for them dressed as Father Christmas and ringing a loud brass bell. Sirius, Remus, and Peter shuffled over with red-tinged cheeks, but James and Branwen ran to their father with open arms.  
  
When they arrived at the Potter house, the boys realised it wasn’t just Mr. Potter who was brimming with Christmas enthusiasm. Euphemia had gone all out for “her boys.” Tinsel was strung from every nook and cranny, punctuated with boughs of holly and bunches of mistletoe. There was a Christmas tree in every room, including one that was nearly twelve feet tall in the parlour. It was already surrounded by presents wrapped in shining paper and over-sized bows. On the fireplace were five stockings printed with all their names in swirling silver letters.  
  
It was a little overwhelming for Sirius, Remus, and Peter at first, but it didn’t take them long to adjust to showers of affection, of which Fleamont and Euphemia had an endless supply. They plied the boys with cocoa and cookies as often as possible. One of their rooms had been enchanted into an ice-skating rink with skates charmed to give the user maximum speed and height on jumps. The gingerbread houses they made were populated with tiny gingerbread men and women who seemed to enjoy their new homes with great enthusiasm.  


\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Christmas Eve found all five friends sleeping over in James’ room. Well, sleeping may not have been the right word. Not only were they on a sugar high from Cassie’s latest batch of snickerdoodles, but James’ room was a picture of pandemonium. The fairies on his tree kept fluttering around, trading places on their boughs. The miniature Hogwarts Express running around the base that kept emitting steam and whistles every time it pulled into the miniature Platform 9 ¾. Celestina Warbuck was crooning from a corner radio while Branwen and the boys belted the verses in a screeching, off-key tone:

“My baby gave me a hippogriff for Christmas / If you wish for less, you're thinking way too small / He'll be with me till the end / Oh, a hippogriff's the greatest gift of all! / Yes, a hippogriff's the greatest gift of all!”

When the clock struck midnight, they were all still wide awake, so they greeted the holiday with loud cheers and bangs of Dr Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks.  
  
Finally, as the early hours of Christmas wore on, they began to nod off, one by one.  
  
When Fleamont and Euphemia checked on their children at nine o’clock that morning, they were still sound asleep. Euphemia smiled at her husband, her weathered face folding into scores of wrinkles. “This is the best Christmas I could have asked for, Flea.”  
  
“I know,” he kissed the top of her greying head.  
  
“Can’t we just, keep them all? There’s plenty of room.”  
  
Fleamont chuckled. “They have their own parents, you know. Parents who love them and would be rather upset if we stole their beloved offspring.”  
  
“Not Sirius.” They both sobered, knowing exactly what was waiting for the boy at his house. “If Walburga were to ever….”  
  
“Yes, darling. We would take him in a heartbeat.”  
  
They smiled and slipped downstairs to enjoy a quiet Christmas tea together.

It was almost noon before Branwen dragged herself from her warm, cosy sleep. She was about to pounce on her brother with a “Happy Christmas!” scream when she saw a figure in the window seat.  
  
Sirius’ profile was highlighted by the frosty sun outside the window. It was the most sombre Branwen had ever seen him. He had a faraway look in his eyes, and as she approached she noticed his jaw was trembling.  
  
“Siri?”  
  
He wiped at his eyes as he turned to her. “Hey. Happy Christmas, Bran.”  
  
“Happy Christmas, Sirius.” She clambered onto the seat beside him, hugging her knees to her chest. She joined him in gazing out the window, although there was really nothing to see. The streets below were empty of their usual shoppers and business commuters. The only indication of life was the ring of church bells far in the distance.  
  
The two of them continued to sit in silence. Finally, Sirius, his voice barely audible, said, “This is just so….so weird. I’ve never been in a house with so many happy people. No one’s yelled or screamed the whole time I’ve been here; no one’s raised a hand to anyone else.”  
  
Branwen reached out and took his hand. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be. I’m sorry you haven’t had that.”  
  
He turned to face her. Tears were slowly rolling down his cheeks. “I just hate that Regulus is still back there. He doesn’t know any better, really. Mum just keeps poisoning his mind with all that, that hate. And I know he and I have our differences, but….he’s still my brother, you know?”  
  
“You got away. You broke years of tradition when you got sorted into Gryffindor,” Branwen gently reminded him. “He’s strong like you. Maybe he’ll learn to break away too.”  
  
Sirius squeezed her hand. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you and James for everything. And your parents. Merlin knows how you got so lucky to have them,” he chuckled. “Merlin knows how I got so lucky to be friends with ruddy gits like you. Oh, and,” he poked her nose, “if you ever bring up this sappy conversation to the boys, I’ll deny everything.”  
  
She smiled and mimed zipping her mouth shut.  
  
In a few moments, they heard Peter stir and Branwen took that as her cue to bounce among them, waking them with loud Christmas greetings.  
  
Once the boys were awake, James and Branwen informed them of the Potter tradition of staying their pyjamas all day – yet another thing Sirius had never experienced. And what was more, there were brand new pyjama sets for all of them. Soft silks and cottons, they were made of the high quality materials that could have been found in the Black household, but the patterns were definitely from the Potters.  
  
James’ outfit was dotted with tiny racing brooms interspersed with his Quidditch number “3.” Sirius’ was similarly decorated with small Bludgers and bats and his number “5.” Remus sported red and gold checks with wands and (he chuckled) crescent moons. Peter’s were blue with tiny fireworks and roaring lion heads. Branwen had picked out a red pair with golden Snitches all over.  
  
Once dressed in their official Christmas attire, they trooped downstairs. It hadn’t seemed possible, but even more sparkling packages had appeared overnight. Fleamont and Euphemia emerged from the kitchen with cheery greetings and mugs of cocoa and warm biscuits. Then the real show began.  
  
James and Branwen dove in. It wasn’t that they were greedy; they just knew that these gifts were expressions of their parents love and they wanted to appreciate them as much as possible.  
  
James’ first gift was a Nimbus 1001, the same model Branwen had received for her second year try-outs, a model newer than his Nimbus 1000. It came with an updated broom-care kit, the latest edition of “Quidditch Through the Ages,” and a sketch board designed to plot out strategies with moving figures that would show how potential plays would work out.  
  
Branwen unwrapped the finest quill and parchment set Flourish & Blotts could offer. She had new Seeker goggles that were enchanted to stay clear through rain and wind. There was a set of books on medicinal Herbology and a life-sized poster of Evie Aimes, the Seeker who replaced retired Ginger Larkin of the Holyhead Harpies.  
  
Sirius, Remus, and Peter hung back. They didn’t quite know how to react to gifts as extravagant as the Potters gave. With Fleamont’s encouragement, though, they began to dig in.  
  
Sirius received new dragon-hide gloves for Quidditch and a large Gryffindor pennant for his room (James’ choice, as he thought it would annoy Walburga the most). For Remus there was a set of handsomely-bound books containing the complete works of a Muggle author called Edgar Allan Poe. There was also a thick new overcoat and a pair of sturdy boots that fit like a glove, which incidently, he also received a pair of. For Peter, who loved games of any kind, there was an exquisite set of Gobstones which released flowery perfumes instead of the usual hideous odours, as well as a Self-Shuffling set of Exploding Snap cards.  
  
Sirius had gifts for his friends as well. Though he complained of a dwindling allowance, he still managed to scrape up enough for a wristwatch for James (guaranteed to resist any Quidditch weather condition), a glittering locket for Branwen, a personalised quill set for Remus, and a wizard chess set for Peter.  
  
When these had been opened, a contented chatter filled the room. James and Sirius admired the new Nimbus 1001 in the gleaming firelight, while Peter squinted at each Gobstone, examining their minutely intricate designs. Branwen was holding her locket, considering which photos to put in it, when she spotted a small cache of presents tucked behind Remus. “Wait, we forgot some!” she cried.  
  
“No, no,” Remus held his arms out, trying to block the view of the gifts, “these are just, just extras. They’re nothing.”  
  
Euphemia walked over and read the labels. “Remus, darling, these are from your parents. Would you like me to pass them around?”  
  
His face was beet red and his gaze was fixed on the floor. “No,” he repeated, “they’re nothing.”  
  
“Remus,” Euphemia placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sure they’re lovely.”  
  
She picked them up and passed them among the friends. James ripped into his first. “Woah! Look!” It was a small gold-plated tie pin engraved with the initials J.F.P.  
  
Peter received a supple leather bag for his new Gobstones. It too had his name on it, stitched by hand by Hope Lupin.  
  
Sirius and Branwen were a little more confused about their gifts. Sirius unwrapped a pair of large wire-rimmed glasses that were tinted black. “Um….thanks, mate. But you know I don’t wear glasses. Even if I did I’m not sure what help these would be.” He squinted through the dark lenses.  
  
Remus chuckled. “They’re not for seeing. I mean, not like James’. They’re called sunglasses. Muggles wear them to help keep the sun out of their eyes.”  
  
“Holy Merlin!” Sirius had run to one of the mirrors in the hall and was inspecting his reflection. “I look incredible in these! Remus, you’re a fashion genius!”  
  
Remus blushed. “Well, my mum and dad picked them out.”  
  
Branwen held up her gift as well. It looked like a large red and gold, crocheted square with a hole directly in the middle. “Um, Rem….?”  
  
He laughed again. “That’s called a poncho. Mum says they’re all the rage with the Muggle girls right now. Here, stand up.” He grabbed her hand to pull her up then settled the garment over her head.  
  
Branwen ran and joined Sirius, who was still preening in front of the mirror. “Wow! It’s so pretty!”  
  
“Thanks,” Remus blushed again. “Mum made it.”  
  
Branwen left Sirius and ran back to throw her arms around Remus’ waist. “Thank you so much.”  
  
Remus’ blush deepened and he awkwardly patted her back. They pulled apart when Fleamont cleared his throat. “We have one final gift for all of you. Euphemia and I have booked a six week tour of America for the summer holiday and you’re all invited.”  
  
Remus’ eyes widened. Six weeks easily covered at least one full moon. He could never be away from home (or Hogwarts) for so long. “Um, that’s very generous of you, Mr. Potter, but I….I….”  
  
James, realising the problem, jumped in. “Didn’t you tell me that you wanted to spend time with your parents this summer? That you have plans with your Dad or something?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, they said they’ve been missing me and….yeah.” He didn’t quite know how to end his sentence.  
  
“Well, we’re sorry to hear that dear, but I can understand a parent wanting to spend time with their child,” Euphemia said sympathetically. “What about the rest of you?”  
  
Sirius’ shoulders slumped. “I think we all know what my my mother will say.”  
  
Peter glanced around. “Um, I’ll have to ask my parents.”  
  
Fleamont and Euphemia deflated just a bit, but everyone perked up when Cassie entered and announced that Christmas dinner was ready. They broke open their Christmas crackers and ate with gusto, savouring every bite and every moment.


	26. Goin' Back to Hogwarts

The ride back to Hogwarts began as a sombre one. Leaving from Christmas at the Potters’ was like waking up from an especially delightful dream. No matter how wonderful the reality you awake to, there will always be a lingering melancholy knowing that dream, that exact set of feelings and euphoria, can never be recreated.  
  
And they had other reasons to dread their return to the school. The full moon was only two days away. It was a painful reminder of their friend’s condition and of their failure so far to help him. They thought too of the upcoming Quidditch matches and the defeat they suffered in the past. Even Remus, who was usually coursing with energy so close to the moon, was quiet and withdrawn.  
  
“Screw it; I have to do something.” James was the first of them to pop up from his seat. He rummaged in his bag in the luggage case, then pulled out a handful of Dungbombs. “What’s say we pay Snape a little visit?” He grinned.  
  
Sirius jumped up as well, rubbing his hands together. “Now you’re talking, mate.”  
  
“Come on,” James grabbed Peter’s hand, “you and I will distract Lily, then Sirius will toss the bombs.”  
  
“How do you know Lily will be there?” Branwen asked.  
  
Her brother rolled his eyes. “When is she not with him?”  
  
“Fair point.”  
  
“Come on.”  
  
Remus and Branwen were left alone in the compartment when their friends took off. Remus raised a brow. “Want to go see how it turns out?”  
  
“Oh, most definitely.”  
  
The pair grinned and stepped into the corridor where they could watch the scene unfold. James and Peter were knocking on a door a few down from their own. Sirius was no where to be seen. The door slid back, and they could hear Lily’s voice. “What do you want, Potter?”  
  
“Lily!” James gushed. “Looking as lovely as ever. Would you care to join me in a stroll around the train? You can tell me how much you missed me over the holiday.”  
  
“Funnily enough, I was able to muddle through without missing you at all. Now, if you don’t mind….” She went to shove the door in his face, but he stuck a foot in the way, yelping when it slammed into his toes.  
  
“Come on, Lils,” he whined. “I….I have a question about Charms class this semester.”  
  
“Then ask Peter here. He’s good enough.”  
  
Peter beamed at the lukewarm compliment.  
  
“Not having much luck, is he?” Remus whispered to Branwen.  
  
She shook her head, then whispered back, “Let’s help him out a bit, shall we?” She climbed over to their luggage rack then returned with a handful of black powder. “Instant Darkness Powder,” she explained. “My father imported it from Peru. Might want to back up.”  
  
Remus stepped back into their compartment and Branwen flicked her wrist, dispersing the powder into the air. True to its name, the powder emitted a thick darkness that filled the corridor. There was a chorus of squeals and shouts down the hall, and of doors sliding back and shouts of “Hey!” “What happened?” “Are you there?”  
  
Then a concentrated source of chaos erupted, along with a hideous stench.  
  
“James Potter!” Lily’s voice could be heard screaming and a shuffle of running feet made its way toward Branwen.  
  
“Bran?” James’ voice whispered from the dark.  
  
“Yes, it’s me.”  
  
He grabbed her arm and yanked her into their compartment. She could feel Sirius and Peter slide in as well.  
  
Because the hall had received the bulk of the powder, their chamber was still dimly light. The friends all fell back into their seats, breathless from the thrill. When they caught sight of each other’s flushed faces, they burst into laughter, clutching their sides and rolling in their seats.  
  
However, as soon as light returned to the corridor, the door was thrown open, revealing a furious and reeking Snape. His wand was gripped tight in his hand and before any of them could react, he raised it and pointed at James and Sirius. “Unguis Incrementum!”  
  
The boys started screaming. In a matter of seconds it was clear why. Their shoes were ripping open, torn by toenails that were shooting forward faster than imaginable. Branwen yelled and leaped from her seat. She grabbed her wand and shouted “Finite!”  
  
The nails stopped growing, but were still protruding from the whimpering boys’ feet.  
  
“What should I do? What should I do?” Branwen was nearly frantic, not knowing how to reverse what had been done.  
  
Remus produced his wand. “Reparifors Incantatem!”  
  
The toenails shrunk to where they belonged.  
  
“How dare you!” Branwen grit her teeth as she faced Snape. By now Lily (also stinking of Dungbombs) had appeared over his shoulder and Branwen yelled at her too. “Can’t you control your boyfriend?”  
  
Lily glared at her. “He’s not my boyfriend. And I’m sure whatever Severus did, your brother deserved it.”  
  
Snape smirked and crossed his arms, but Branwen was still fuming. “If you ever try that again –”  
  
“Now, now. What’s this about, children?” Lucius Malfoy strolled up to them, his Head Boy badge gleaming on his chest.  
  
Snape’s thin lips pulled back in a wicked grin. “These Gryffindors were just throwing Instant Darkness Powder and Dungbombs around the train.”  
  
“Yes, I can smell that.” Malfoy’s nose rose even further in the air than his typical arrogant posture. He lazily waved his wand. “Ventus.” A wind gushed through corridor, clearing it of the lingering stench.  
  
“Well, it’s unfortunate that I can’t hand out detentions, but I will be taking twenty points apiece from Gryffindor for your disruptive behaviour.” Malfoy grinned as he counted the heads inside the compartment. “That will be one hundred points from Gryffindor. I think that might be a record for most points deducted before start of the semester.”  
  
“That’s not fair!” James leapt up. “No one got hurt from our prank. Snape nearly cut our feet off!”  
  
“Shall I make it thirty apiece?”  
  
Remus was balling his fists now. “At least don’t take points from Bran. She didn’t do anything. I was the one who threw the Powder.”  
  
“Rem –” Branwen started to protest, but he cut her off with a soft kick to the shin.  
  
Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “I find it unlikely that Miss Potter would not be involved in her brother’s plans. Snape, did you see her during this debacle?”  
  
He frowned, but was forced to give a “no” by the shake of his head.  
  
“Very well then. I shall give Miss Potter her points back. Congratulations; I’m sure that eighty points is still something of a record.”  
  
With a swish of his robes, Malfoy turned and strode back toward the prefect compartment.  
  
“Way to go, idiots,” Lily hissed. “Maybe think about the other people in your House next time you do something stupid. Come on, Severus.” She grabbed the Slytherin’s hand and flounced back down the corridor.  
  
“Still in love with her, mate?” Sirius eyed James as he rubbed his feet.  
  
“’Course I am. But that Snape,” his eyes narrowed, “he needs taking down a peg or two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For spells where the incantations are unknown in canon, I've tried to stick to original Latin words/phrases. Hope they turn out! :)  
> And lots of thanks for reading! Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are always welcome :)


	27. Quidditch and Jelly-Leg Jinxes

The sour mood from the start of their journey returned when, on the first day back, the boys brought down the moths’ cage which they had left in their dorm over the holiday. Both specimen were dead. Branwen nearly burst into tears when she saw their shrivelled bodies and realised they would have to begin again from scratch.  
  
They attended two days of classes before the full moon had them spending the night in the Shrieking Shack once again. It was a rough night for Remus, and Branwen was so reluctant to leave him the next day that he threatened her with a Bat-Bogey hex to get her to go to Quidditch practise.  
  
By the week’s final practise though, Remus was able to hobble out to the pitch while leaning on Peter’s shoulders. Branwen lit up when she spotted him, wrapped in his new coat from the Potters. She ran to him, broom in hand. “Remus! I’m so glad you’re feeling better! But what are you doing here? It’s just a practise and besides, it’s freezing!”  
  
Remus and Peter glanced at each other, before Peter said, “Um, James asked us to be here.”  
  
“Really?” She tilted her head.  
  
“Hey!” James and Sirius came running out of the locker room. “You made it!”  
  
Branwen’s hands went to her hips. “James, did you drag these two out here?”  
  
“I sure did,” he rubbed his hands together and glanced over his shoulder to make sure that their captain wasn’t paying attention. “Sirius came up with the perfect plan for the Slytherin team. It will totally put them off their game with Ravenclaw tomorrow.”  
  
Branwen rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to be a part of this.” She pulled down her goggles and mounted her broom, pushing off into the frosty air.  
  
They boys watched her go, then huddled together to hear Sirius explain his “brilliant” idea.

They made their way to the pitch for the Slytherin/Ravenclaw game the next morning under a cloudless sky. A thick layer of crystallised snow coated everything, reflecting the clear sun with dazzling brilliance. Sirius strutted across the grounds, his new sunglasses rebounding the rays.  
  
Branwen ran up to him and slid her arm through his. She had had a change of heart overnight and now wanted to be let in on the boys’ plan. She smiled up at her tall, swaggering friend. “You look so handsome today, Sirius.”  
  
“I know,” he smirked.  
  
“So, are you going to tell me what the prank is all about?”  
  
He poked her nose. “Learn some patience, Potter.”  
  
As they mounted the stairs of the stadium, Branwen ran up to her brother. “James, pleeease tell me.”  
  
He shook his head and led them to seats near the staff booth – the ones with the best view.  
  
When they sat down, she turned to Peter and gave him her best pouting lips. “Peeteer. You know you’re my favourite. Please let me in on it.”  
  
His eyes went wide, but Sirius clamped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t spoil it! She’ll see soon enough.”  
  
Remus cleared his throat as he sat next to her. “Are you going to ask me to tell you?”  
  
She smirked up at him. “Are you going to tell me?”  
  
“Nope.” They both laughed together.  
  
Students were now flooding the stands. Most of them were wearing either green or blue to support the House of their choice. Lily Evans and her girlfriends showed up sporting blue jumpers emblazoned with the number three, for their friend, Ravenclaw’s Chaser, Alfred Thomas. James jumped up and down trying to catch her attention, but she either didn’t see him or was very good at ignoring (Branwen suspected the latter). Snape was seated with her, wearing black as usual, nothing to indicate support for either his House or the opposing.  
  
Just as Lucius Malfoy settled himself in front of the megaphone to begin the game, there was a sound like the roar of a mountain troll from the Slytherin locker rooms. Flashes of green poured out the doorway, wand-light attempting to undo….whatever it was that had been done.  
  
Madam Hooch ran into the room then emerged a few minutes later, barely suppressing the smile on her face. She raised a hand and mounted her broom.“The game will continue!”  
  
Just in case there was anyone not paying attention to the commotion on the Slytherin side, James leapt on to his seat as the team walked on to the pitch. He pointed and shouted, “Hey look!”  
  
A massive tidal wave of laughter swept through the crowd.  
  
“Well, well, well,” Malfoy’s voice struggled to be heard over the rolling laughter. “It appears that the Slytherin team, favoured for this day’s match, has been sabotaged. Likely the work of some petty third-years who have nothing better to do with their immature, underdeveloped –”  
  
“That will be enough, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall cut him off.  
  
Now that all seven of the Slytherin players were arranged on the pitch, their embarrassment was obvious. All of their broom were painted a bright, neon pink and were budding with blossoms of red and gold roses. The petals floated gently in the air, showering them like new brides. Notorious for their exclusion of female players, all the Slytherin uniforms now featured the sparkling name of a corresponding player from the Holyhead Harpies.  
  
Branwen was overwhelmed with the results. She squealed with delight, jumping up and down, hugging her brother and friends. “You boys are geniuses!”  
  
“It was all Remus and Peter,” Sirius shouted over the crowd. “They did it while we were practising. You didn’t even know you were part of the distraction.” He grabbed her in a (gentle) headlock and ruffled her hair.  
  
Remus grinned to himself. He had been more than a little leery of their joke, but Branwen’s laughter was infectious and he enjoyed the entire game, a first for a match that didn’t include Gryffindor.  
  
Even though the friends were rooting for Ravenclaw over Slytherin, the chaos that enveloped the match had them cheering regardless of what plays were happening on the pitch. It was a short game, anyway. Distracted and embarrassed by their appearances, the Slytherin team was off its game and the Snitch was shortly caught by Ravenclaw Seeker, Amelia Bones.  
  
In the milling, chaotic throng that followed, the five friends easily slipped up to Gryffindor tower and avoided any consequences for their subterfuge.

The next Hogsmeade weekend was in sight. All that stood between them and a free day in the wizarding village was three more weeks of classes and a full moon.  
  
The day after their return from the Shack was wet. Pipes could be heard dripping throughout the castle, dampening the walls. Drizzling sleet pounded the hospital windows and all the lamps in the room were lit in an attempt to drive away the gloom.  
  
Remus was resting in a cradle of pillows on his bed. A bandage was wrapped around his forearm and his lips were cracked and scabbing. Branwen was beside him, her nose buried in her Transfiguration notes (her worst class despite her Animagus ambitions), her hand reaching out to re-tuck his sheets every time she got frustrated. Peter sat on his other side, extolling the virtues of his new Gobstones to his captive audience.  
  
“This one’s a Dragon’s Eye; here’s a Billywig Wing. Oh, and this is called the Black Death. It’s one of the rarest.” He held up a stone of solid ebony that looked like a miniature black hole in the palm of his hand.  
  
Just when Branwen was on the verge of throwing her papers in the air and kicking her text book across the room, the door opened and Regulus Black came shuffling into the room. He looked bleary-eyed and red in the nose. He sat on one of the empty beds across the room from the Gryffindors when Madam Pomfrey emerged to tend to her new patient.  
  
Remus, Peter, and Branwen watched with undisguised curiosity as the Healer went through her usual triage routine. When Pomfrey bustled back into her depository, the friends glanced at each other, their brows raised in a silent question. Finally, Branwen slipped off her stool and made her way to Regulus’ bed. “So,” she shoved her hands into the pockets of her robes, “what are you in for?”  
  
“Just a cold,” he sniffled. “Pomfrey went to get the Pepper-Up Potion.”  
  
“That’s good.” Branwen shuffled her feet.  
  
“I know you and your friends were behind that prank at the match on Saturday,” he suddenly leaned forward and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “Listen, Potter. Why do you hang out with idiots like our brothers and those guys?” he nodded in the direction of Remus and Peter. “You’re a pureblood. You could have done brilliantly in Slytherin.”  
  
Branwen crossed her arms. “Regulus, they’re my friends. I don’t pick them based on how ‘pure’ their blood is. I pick them for how they treat other people and, and for their personalities.”  
  
He scoffed. “Like the lovely personalities that caused the best team in the House League to lose to a bunch of Ravenclaw pansies?”  
  
Branwen huffed and rolled her eyes. “Look, Reg, we’re never going to agree. Not on Quidditch or bloodlines or anything else. So I hope you feel better, but I think I’m going back to my friends.” She turned to walk away.  
  
“That Lupin sure is in here a lot, huh?”  
  
Branwen stopped cold in her tracks. There was a fierce glint in her eye as she slowly turned. “So?”  
  
He shrugged. “Just saying. Probably something he got from his Muggle-mother. And that other one, Pettigrew, isn’t he a mudbloo –”  
  
“Locomotor Wibbly!” Branwen’s wand was in her hand, cursing the boy before he could finish his sentence. Even though he’d been seated, Regulus’ legs jerked so wildly out of control that he was thrown from the bed to the floor.  
  
“What is going on here!” Madam Pomfrey came rushing back into the room. “Finite!” She stopped Regulus’ legs before stalking toward Branwen. “Miss Potter. What is the meaning on this?”  
  
Remus and Peter were watching the scene wide-eyed, a mix of both horror and awe on their faces. They had never seen Pomfrey so mad, but watching Branwen take on Regulus and his racist comments was enthralling.  
  
Regulus pulled himself from the ground, pointing at Branwen. “She cursed me!”  
  
“Because he insulted my friends!” Branwen shot back.  
  
Pomfrey glanced between the two, eyes narrowed. “What exactly did he say, Miss Potter?”  
  
Her eyes grew wide. “Please, Madam Pomfrey, I – I can’t repeat it.”  
  
“He called me a mudblood!” Peter shouted from across the room.  
  
Pomfrey gasped. “Is that true, Mr. Black?”  
  
His refusal to meet her eye was answer enough.  
  
“Very well,” Pomfrey crossed her arms, “I will recommend to your Heads of House that you both receive a detention as well as points deducted.”  
  
Regulus fumed (quite literally after he took the Pepper-Up Potion, his ears steaming for the next few hours). When Branwen returned to her friends, she looked near to tears. Remus and Peter, however, were beaming.  
  
“Bran, that was awesome! Wait until James and Sirius hear about this!” Peter exclaimed.  
  
Remus smiled wanly. “Thanks for standing up for us, Bran. You’re the best pureblood friend a half-blood guy like me could have.”  
  
She laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. Then a thought struck her. Her mouth dropped open and her chin began to tremble. “Oh no! I just know my detention will be on Saturday. That means another weekend I miss Hogsmeade!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why this chapter took me so long; I had to rewrite it at least a dozen times! Anyway, it's out there now, lol. Look for more Regulus in the next chapter and jealous!Branwen.  
> Oh, and Ravenclaw player, Alfred Thomas, is meant to be Dean Thomas' father, with a nod to the lovely Alfred Enoch. For characters whose Houses/years are unknown, I've assigned them the best I could, such as having Amelia Bones in Ravenclaw.


	28. Green-Eyed Monster

Branwen’s predication was correct.  
  
On Saturday morning they all gathered in the Entrance Hall, but were bound for separate destinations. The boys had their their cloaks on, ready for the frosty trek to Hogsmeade. Branwen watched them check their passes with Filch, then they turned and hugged her, one by one. James pretended to wipe a tear from his eye and Sirius even saluted, making her feel like a soldier off to her first campaign.  
  
Branwen had been assigned to kitchen duties for her detention. She made her way down the stairs that led to the Hufflepuff dorms, but stopped when she reached a painting of a bowl of fruit. Someone else was there too. “Don’t tell me we have the same detention,” she crossed her arms and stared pointedly at Regulus.  
  
“Looks like it.” He reached out and tickled the pear in the painting. The pear giggled, then transformed into a bright green doorknob. Regulus turned it and the pair passed through the hidden door.  
  
It was the first time either of them had seen the enormous cathedral of a room. It sat directly beneath the Great Hall and had five tables that corresponded to those above (one for each House and another for staff). Along the edges of the room were rows and rows of counters, sinks, and cupboards, all in use for the preparation of the evening meal. A fireplace took up nearly the entire rear wall and the mingled scents of meat cooking and bread baking filled their noses.  
  
As the door swung shut with a bang, scores of house-elves jolted, staring up at them. One peeled off and ran toward them, and the others slowly went back to their jobs: turning spits over the fires, frosting cakes, chopping vegetables, and brewing enormous vats of tea. The tiny female elf, who was wearing a toga that had once been a bath towel, scurried toward them. “Master Regulus? Mistress Branwen?” she squeaked.  
  
They nodded.  
  
“My name is Beezy. Master and Mistress will be working with Beezy; this way,” she motioned them to a long sink stacked high with dirty dishes from the morning breakfast. “Beezy does not like to see students do the work of house-elves. But teachers say this is Master and Mistress’ punishment and Beezy is not to help.” She looked very sad indeed.  
  
“But,” she smiled, “they does not say that Beezy cannot feed Master and Mistress.” With a snap of her fingers two plates of warm cookies and two glasses of milk appeared on a shelf in front of the students. “Master and Mistress will be telling Beezy if they needs anything else,” she smiled widely, then scampered off to her original job, which seemed to be polishing an endless line of silver spoons.  
  
Branwen slipped off her school robes and rolled up her sleeves before biting into one of the waiting cookies. Like most illicit things, the cookies seemed even more delicious than they would have if they had been served in the dining hall. She finished the first one with a smile, then dunked her arms into the soapy water.  
  
Regulus hadn’t moved. His dark green eyes were watching Branwen, a curious sneer on his face. “This is disgusting. House-elf work is….well, it’s for house-elves.”  
  
Branwen rolled her eyes. “That’s the point.” She shoved a wet dish into his chest.  
  
He took it in his finger tips and grabbed a towel laying nearby. “Kreacher would have an absolute fit if he knew I was doing this.”  
  
“Who’s Kreacher?”  
  
“Our house-elf back home.”  
  
“Oh. We don’t have a house-elf.”  
  
Regulus froze in place and stared at her as if she had said they didn’t have doors or windows in her house. “Who does the work?” he asked.  
  
“Cassie. Mum and Dad pay her to keep house. My dad’s house-elf died after my he was grown up and moved out and, well, I guess he just never got another one. Cassie’s nice though. She’s basically a member of the family.”  
  
Regulus considered this, then shook his head and sighed. “I will never understand you blood-traitors.”  
  
Branwen sighed. “Why are you like that, Regulus?”  
  
He quirked a brow. “Like what?”  
  
“I mean, why are you so mean? Here we are, stuck together for the next few hours with nothing to do but eat cookies and wash dishes, and you still have to insult me. Why can’t you be more like Sirius? He’s your brother and he manages to be nice.”  
  
“So nice that he throws Dungbombs in trains and sabotages other people’s brooms?”  
  
“He doesn’t do it to hurt anyone. It’s only meant to be fun. You could be having fun too, you know,” she bumped him with her hip. “We would all really like it if you wanted to be friends with us.”  
  
“Even after everything I said?”  
  
She shrugged. “Well, the boys might take some convincing, but I’d make them come around.”  
  
Regulus seemed to consider this for a moment, scrubbing at a fork that was already dry. When he set it down, he said, “I don’t think so. I already have friends. Severus lets me hang out with him and Lily. And there’s Flint, and Parkinson, and Travers, Avery, Mulciber. And Cissy, of course. She’s going to be marrying Lucius when she graduates and they told me I can be in the wedding.”  
  
“That’s…..nice….” Branwen didn’t know what else to say. All of the people he listed were known bullies. Just last week she’d watched fourth-years Avery and Mulciber hold down first year Quirinus Quirrell so their pal Evan Rosier could use the Vermiculus jinx on him. Professor Flitwick had to be called in to restore the boy from his worm form. Even when Branwen was with her friends, the Gryffindors all took care to give the Slytherins a wide berth.  
  
There wasn’t much else for Branwen and Regulus to say to each other, so the rest of their detention passed in relative silence. When they finished, Branwen thanked Beezy for the cookies (the house-elf nearly somersaulted in her attempt to bow and walk backward at the same time). Outside the painting-door, she smiled at Regulus. “Well, I guess we’ve paid our debt to society.”  
  
“Guess so,” he smiled back. His mouth opened once more and he seemed on the verge of saying something else, but shook his head, thinking better of it. Instead, he just rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled, “Guess I’ll see you later.”  
  
“Definitely. Potions on Monday. Bye now!” She gave a short sort of wave, then turned up the hall, racing for Gryffindor Tower. Her boys were due back soon and she wanted to ask Alice for that special lotion she used; her hands resembled mouldy raisins.  
  
As she passed the window in the common room though, she saw that groups of students were already returning from Hogsmeade. She hurried over and pressed her nose to the icy pane, eager to spot and wave to the boys.  
  
Several groups passed before she could make out the knot of third-year Gryffindors. She raised a hand to wave, then paused. Sirius was walking and laughing with his arm around Marlene McKinnon’s shoulders. Mary MacDonald and Peter were step-in-step and he was gesturing wildly, lost in her rapt attention. A few steps behind, Lily was snugly wedged between Remus and Severus. James was bouncing back and forth, trying to get a word in to the red-head any chance he got.  
  
Branwen frowned. Her whole life, she had been the only girl in the family, the treasured daughter of a couple who longed for children and were euphoric to receive one of each. Her spotlight of attention only intensified when she arrived at Hogwarts and found herself the darling pet of four doting older boys. Her eyes narrowed at the three girls laughing and tramping their way through the snow to the Entrance Hall on the arms of her friends. She was in detention for one day and they had already replaced her.  
  
Forgetting the lotion, Branwen found an out-of-the-way armchair, grabbed her school bag, and dug out her Potions homework. Her nose was buried in the textbook when the group from outside (minus Severus) came tumbling through the portrait hole, talking and laughing at the tops of their voices.  
  
“Hey Bran!” James called. “Bran? Bon-Bon?” She pointedly ignored him, yanking out a piece of parchment on which to begin her essay. Finally he skipped over and perched on the arm of her chair. “Has my favourite sister gone deaf?” He ruffled her hair.  
  
She rolled her eyes and pulled away. “I’m your only sister, Jamie.”  
  
“Bran!” Sirius slipped away from Marlene and ran to take the chair arm opposite James. “Check out the loot!” He reached into the pockets of his cloak and began emptying them into Branwen’s lap. There were toffees and sugar quills and liquorice wands from Honeyduke’s and acid pops and whizzing worms and Dungbombs from Zonko’s. At least four bottles of butterbeer had been smuggled from the Three Broomsticks.  
  
Peter took a seat near Mary, but Remus excused himself from Lily and sauntered over to the group. He smiled and settled himself at Branwen’s feet. “How was detention?”  
  
It was all the invitation she needed. She sighed dramatically, tossing the parchment aside. “It was just torture! They had us washing dishes! Just look at my hands!”  
  
“Just awful,” Sirius clucked in disdain.  
  
“My poor baby sister,” James feigned crying.  
  
“Here, let me see those,” Remus gathered her hands into one of his. With the other, he pulled his wand from his coat pocket and gave it a flick. Her hands instantly smoothed out and were left soft and gentle.  
  
“Oh, how marvellous! Thank you, Rem,” she leaned down and placed a kiss to the top of his head. Then she leaned back and closed her eyes. The boys were all laughing again, passing around the bottles of butterbeer, and telling her how much they had missed her. Yes, she smiled, this is where her boys belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on having Regulus as such a reoccurring character, but he keeps wanting to come back around. I think he has a little crush on Miss Potter. We'll see where it goes ;)


	29. Lone Wolf

After Hogsmeade, they had four weeks until the next full moon. In some ways, it was a relief. They had a whole month before the had to worry about the Animagus process again. For the time, they got to pretend to be average students and focus on nothing more than their studies (and perhaps a prank or two).  
  
Their fun lasted until the first weekend in March, when Branwen finally tried to regain their attention. They needed to secure more moths before the full moon the following week. They decided they would pay Hagrid a visit.  
  
The dark sky was threatening rain that Saturday morning, so they hurried down the path before the heavens opened. When they knocked on the huge door, they heard what sounded like a small explosion followed by loud expletive. An orange light flashed in the window. There was another scuffle, then a loud bang of metal on metal.  
  
The door opened just a few inches and Hagrid peered out on five wide-eyed faces. “Oh, it’s you,” he grunted. “Come in.”  
  
The door opened wider and the students cautiously edged inside.  
  
“Hagrid!” Branwen yelled. “Your sofa’s on fire!”  
  
“Oh! So it is,” Hagrid laughed nervously and picked up a nearby quilt to smother the flames.  
  
The lid of a pot on the stove rattled. “What’s in there?” James asked.  
  
“Oh, nothin’, nothin’.” The singed couch was still smoking as Hagrid shuffled over to shield the pot from their view. Just then, a spout of flame flew from the pot and the lid crashed onto the hearth. Hagrid jumped aside, and a scaly head poked out, then toppled the pan over. The creature that crawled out resembled a multi-legged turtle with a shell crusted in sapphires.  
  
“That’s a Fire Crab!” Remus yelped. “Don’t you need a permit to have those?”  
  
Hagrid gulped and grabbed a pair of oven pits before picking up the creature again. “Ugh, yea, yea, you gotta have a permit, o’course. It’s uh, in the post on its way to the Ministry right now. Now,” he settled the crab into a crate in the corner of the room, “oh, where are my manners? You kids had breakf’st yet? I got bacon and beans on the oven and tea in the kettle.”  
  
Now that their attention was no longer on the flammable creature, the scent of breakfast cooking sent their stomachs into a chorus of growls.  
  
Peter grinned. “I could eat.” He clambered onto a stool and the others followed suit, a bit more warily when they remembered their last dining experience in the hut.  
  
They weren’t surprised to be treated to a similar experience this time. There was toast made from bread cut into slices as thick as bricks (and nearly as tough). The bacon resembled strips of charcoal. Their spoons could stand up in the thick beans and the tea was only slightly better.  
  
Peter seemed not to notice, digging into the meal. The others ate just enough to appear polite.  
  
“So,” Hagrid slapped his knee and helped himself to a heaping plate of beans, “you young’uns come down in this weather jus’ fer a chat?”  
  
“Well….” Branwen hesitated. Put that way, it seemed rude that they had only come to ask a favour.  
  
Hagrid chuckled at their embarrassment. “’S all right. I think I can guess what you need. More moths, ‘m I right?” He winked at Branwen.  
  
She nodded. “Yes please.”  
  
Hagrid stroked his beard, his eyes twinkling. “Lemme guess. They weren’t a present from no aunt.”  
  
“I don’t even have an aunt,” Branwen blushed.  
  
“You can have mine,” Sirius chuckled.  
  
“Not if my life depended on it,” James replied under his breath.  
  
“Tell ya what,” Hagrid ignored the boys’ banter, “those buggers are mighty hard to keep alive. Why don’ you let me catch a bunch of ‘em for ya, and ya can come and get ‘em when ya need ‘em.”  
  
“That would be wonderful, thank you,” Remus smiled.  
  
“Don’ suppose you could tell me what it’s all for?”  
  
They glanced at each other, avoiding his eyes.  
  
“I figur’d,” Hagrid winked. “In fact, I think maybe we can help each other. Uh, I don’ mention the moths, you don’ mention the….” he jerked his head in the direction of the crab.  
  
Branwen grinned and stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

  
  


With their moth supply secure, Branwen took the chance of clipping Stanley’s first leaves of the year. The next full moon (and the Quidditch match the day after) was quickly approaching and nerves in the group began to run high. James, Sirius, and Peter finally vented some of their energy on a group of first-years by trapping them on a moving staircase they had charmed to spin in place. Of course, when Filch spotted them, they landed a detention – on the night of the full moon.

  
  


After dinner Friday evening, the friends moved into the Entrance Hall, then checked their watches. It was five-thirty; one hour until moonrise.  
  
“You don’t have to go with me,” Remus finally blurted at Branwen. They had all agreed earlier that she would accompany Remus to the Shack and that the other boys would join her when they finished their detention.  
  
“What do you mean?” Branwen exclaimed. “Of course I’m going with you. You think I’m going to let you do this alone?”  
  
“But you have a match in the morning!” Remus glanced at James for support, but he just shook his head, knowing better than to argue with his stubborn sister. “Keep warm, Bon-Bon. We’ll be there as soon as we finish.”  
  
Branwen hugged her brother, then the group split, the boys trudging off to the trophy room, Remus and Branwen ducking beneath the Invisibility Cloak. It was a cold evening, steely clouds hanging low in the sky. The rain that had been threatening all week had yet to fall, and they hoped it would hold off just a little longer. Just in case, the two of them scurried toward the Whomping Willow as fast as they could.  
  
When they were close enough, Remus pulled out his wand. “Immobulus,” he whispered. The well-aimed shot hit the knob at the tree’s base, freezing its limbs in place. He entered the low tunnel first, followed by Branwen. She latched onto his robes, so as not to fall behind. Not having reached their full heights yet, the two could shuffle along in a mostly standing position.  
  
When the pair had gone about half-way, Remus paused. He heard a small sniffling noise. “Branwen?”  
  
“I’m okay.”  
  
They continued on, but the sniffling got louder until they reached the end. When there was finally enough room to turn around, Remus faced Branwen and took her chin in his hand.  
  
Large tears were rolling down her cheeks and she was gasping for breath in a desperate sort of way. “Hey, Bran,” with one hand still cupping her face, he used the scarred knuckles of the other to swipe away a tear, “what’s this for?”  
  
She gripped his hand when he went to move it away and took a shuddering breath. “It’s for you, Rem. I can’t believe how strong you are, going through this every month. And we can’t even keep a stupid leaf in our mouths for longer than a week. We haven’t done anything –”  
  
“Haven’t done anything!” Remus rocked back on his heels. He wiped a hand across his face, then started to laugh. “Oh, Bran, do you really think you haven’t done anything?”  
  
She gulped back her tears. “I don’t understand.”  
  
He laughed again, then sat down, patting the dirt beside him. She crawled over and leaned into his shoulder. “Look, Bran….the – transformations – have always been hard. Obviously. My parents did the best they could. They were always there for me. But it was still lonely. Just me and them. And I thought that was how it was going to be for the rest of my life.  
  
“Then Dumbledore came and said I could go to Hogwarts. I was ecstatic. But here…..” he glanced around at the small tunnel and the trapdoor above them, “here I was really alone. There was no one I could trust. The only person I saw on nights like this was Madam Pomfrey.  
  
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said quickly, “James and the others were great. They included me in everything. They were my first friends, really. But they couldn’t really be there for me. Not when I needed them most….Then I woke up in hospital that night and saw you….”  
  
He had a faraway look in his eyes and seemed to lose his train of thought. Then he coughed and said, “And now I just can’t seem to get rid of you. The whole lot of you. You’ve made this, this curse bearable. I know I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”  
  
A single tear slipped down Remus’ face. He’d cried so much in his life, felt so much pain, he didn’t know if he had it in him to feel that deeply again. But with Branwen’s warm body pressed against his, away from the judging eyes of his peers, he felt a tiny chink break through his wall of invulnerability.  
  
It closed back up though, as soon as the first excruciating spasm shot through his ribcage.  
  
“Oh, Remus!” Branwen gasped. “You have to get going.” She reached up and shoved the door open.  
  
“Wait, Bran. You have to promise me something” he squeezed her hand, nearly crushing the bones in her fingers. “It’s my birthday on Sunday. And what I want most, is for you to win that match tomorrow.”  
  
She nodded as solemnly as a knight pledging to a quest from his lord and master. “I’ll do it. I swear.”  
  
He tried to smile, grimaced instead, then crawled through the door, locking it behind himself.  
  
Somehow, that night’s transformation seemed to be the worst Branwen had ever heard. It was certainly the most she had ever been tempted to use a silencing spell. Knowing that the howling of pain and the squelching of blood and the ripping of flesh was coming from her soft-hearted friend nearly drove her to madness.  
  
When the other boys crawled down the tunnel later that night, they found Branwen curled up in the fetal position, hands clamped over her ears.  
  
“Hey, hey, Bon-Bon,” James picked her up and cradled her in his lap. He held her, rocking her like an infant, allowing her tears to stain his robes. Sirius and Peter sat nearby, awkwardly patting her hand when they felt it was appropriate.  
  
Finally, she took a heaving sob and held out her hand. “Give it to me.”  
  
Peter reached into his bag and pulled out the leaves she had given him earlier. The boys waited to see if Branwen would explain what had brought her to such a state of crying, but she just shoved the leaf into her mouth and held it there, lifting her wand to perform the sticking charm. They followed her example.  
  
The moon set at six that morning. As gently as they could, the boys picked up Remus and hurried to transfer him into Pomfrey’s care. Peter remained in the hospital wing while the other three ran for a quick breakfast then down to the locker rooms to dress for the match.  
  
Remus’ words kept running through Branwen’s ears as she pulled on her robes and laced up her boots. “It’s my birthday on Sunday.” How had they missed it last year? He was only three weeks older than James. It brought home to her what a short time she had actually known Remus. Only one birthday had come and gone. He would be fourteen and she would still be twelve for another month. It sent thoughts swirling in her head so fast she couldn’t hope to focus on even one. Instead, she took a deep, clearing breath and grabbed her broom.  
  
She had only one thought now: catch that Snitch.


	30. Happy Birthday Moony

The day of the match was foggy; water droplets clung to every surface, soaking cloaks and mittens with an icy chill. At times the fog condensed into rain, adding to the cold and the low visibility on the pitch. If they had been playing Slytherin, Gryffindor would have had to worry about a clean game, but fair-play was a known quality of Hufflepuff, and the two houses nearly always got along. Everyone in the stands could expect an honest duel between two capable teams.  
  
Dorcas Meadowes, the Hufflepuff Seeker, was in Branwen’s year and they shook hands with a smile as the teams lined up down the middle of the pitch. When Madam Hooch blew her whistle and released the balls, Branwen and Dorcas flew up with their teams.  
  
Hufflepuff was also the team with the only female beater of that season. Seventh-year Candace Monroe and sixth-year Xavier Donello easily held their own with Sirius and Kingsley, matching them Bludger for Bludger. Gryffindor Keeper Alex Jordan struggled to keep out Hufflepuff Chasers, Nina Cromwell, Caspar Montgomery, and Tilden Toots, but James and the others were scoring just as easily on Keeper Oberon Brewster, so the points climbed quickly. Two hours into the game, the teams were tied 100-100, and the Snitch had yet to be seen.  
  
Branwen and Dorcas sailed about almost lazily. They knew it would be a waste of energy to zip about too quickly; in the grey haze they could easily race an inch past the golden orb and never know it was there. There was no way it could leave the pitch anyway, so they cruised around, nosing into the dark corners of the stands, then soaring high above for a bird’s eye view (such as it was).  
  
At last, Gryffindor Chaser Edgar Bones paused in mid-air to wipe his fogged up goggles with his robe sleeves. Branwen squinted down at him, then saw a flash of light beneath his shadow. She grinned and angled her broom downward. Edgar started, nearly slipping off his broom when he saw his teammate diving straight for him.  
  
The Snitch was up for a chase. Before Branwen could reach Edgar, it took off and she veered away to follow it. The sudden movement caught the eye of Dorcas and the audience. A resounding cheer rose up as they realised the end was drawing near.  
  
Branwen and Dorcas raced each other neck-in-neck in a sweeping loop of the pitch. Both girls were around the same size; the slight, agile build of a capable Seeker allowed them to corner sharply when the Snitch took off straight into the air, then circle back as it dove toward the stands.  
  
For several minutes, it was a game of speed, keeping up with the orb, determined not to lose sight and have to start again. Then, as if fixed on shaking them, the Snitch took it up a notch and Branwen’s talent came out to shine. First, it zigged, then it zagged. weaving around the Gryffindor goalposts in spiralling circles. Then it shot across the pitch in a direct line for the Hufflepuff goals, where James was poised for another score.  
  
James practised a similar Quidditch strategy as his sister; when he was playing, he focused on his own objectives and no one else’s. So, with the chase for the Snitch in his peripheral, he focused on intercepting the Quaffle from Cromwell and throwing it for one of the smaller side hoops, out of Brewster’s reach.  
  
As soon as the Quaffle left his hand, the Snitch soared over his shoulder.  
  
Less than a second later, his sister followed.  
  
Then Dorcas.  
  
The Quaffle, the Snitch, and the two girls were barrelling toward the hoop. Would they all fit?  
  
Dorcas decided at the last moment not to risk it. So Branwen, crouched low over her broom, hurtled through the hoop at the same time as the Quaffle, her fingers closing around the Snitch a moment later.  
  
Then her world erupted. There was a thundering in her ears, a combination of cheers roaring from the crowd and blood coursing through her brain. The next thing she knew, she was being tackled. It hurt a lot less than Sirius’ Bludger, but it was still nearly enough to knock her from her broom. Then she was hit again and again. When the ringing in her ears subsided, she realised that the slams were from her teammates who were piling on top of her. Their weight combined, they slowly descended to the pitch where they continued to slap her on the back.  
  
James and Sirius grabbed Branwen by the legs and lifted her high above their heads. “My sister!” James was screaming. “My sister caught the Snitch!”  
  
The crowd was growing on the pitch. Dorcas flew overhead to give her friend a congratulatory high-five. Branwen was overwhelmed. She pulled up her goggles and smiled, still panting from her efforts. Her robes and hair were dripping with sweat and condensation, setting her teeth to chattering. She wanted nothing more than a hot cocoa around the common room fire with her friends. Then her gaze lifted to the castle.  
  
“James! Sirius!” She tried to yell to them, then kicked them when they didn’t look up. “Jamie! Siri!” Finally they looked up, and she pointed at the school. Her broom was still in her hand. Using James and Sirius’ shoulders, she mounted in mid-air then took off.  
  
She flew along the walls of the castle until she reached the windows of the hospital wing. They were fogged from the warmth inside. She knocked.  
  
There was a scurrying sound, then the latch was thrown and the pane swung open. “Hey Bran!” Peter leaned out, the sudden chill instantly reddening his cheeks. “Did we win?”  
  
“Yep!” She manoeuvred her broom through the window, then hopped down when she reached Remus’ bed. His eyes struggled to open and his head lolled in her direction. “Hey,” his lips barely moved.  
  
“Hey yourself. And Happy Birthday.” She dropped the Snitch in his lap.

  
  
Peter and James volunteered to stay with Remus overnight, so, in the early hours of the morning, Sirius and Branwen teamed up to raid the kitchens.  
  
With Branwen’s hand on the knob, Sirius tapped her shoulder. “Now that you can get us into the kitchens, you’re the official MVP of Gryffindor.”  
  
“Because my smashing victory yesterday wasn’t enough to earn me the title?” she giggled, then her hand flew to her mouth. After the celebratory shouting of yesterday’s Quidditch victory, she realised that reapplying the Sticking Charm allowed them to speak around the Mandrake leaf much more than she had anticipated. Still, she was afraid to press her luck.  
  
For a moment after opening the door, the two of them stood awkwardly on the threshold of the kitchen. Only a few elves were on duty so early, mostly pressing a few uniforms, but one of them peeled herself away and scurried up to the pair. “Mistress Branwen!”Beezy squeaked. “Beezy is so happy! But is Mistress here for another punishment?” she frowned.  
  
Branwen shook her head. “We’d like a birthday cake for our friend, please.”  
  
Beezy seemed just then to notice Sirius standing and gave a little hop. “Master Regulus came back with Mistress too!”  
  
Sirius grimaced, then mumbled, “No. He’s my brother. I’m Sirius.”  
  
Beezy nodded. Apparently not knowing what else to say, she turned back to Branwen. “What flavour cake for Mistress’ friend?”  
  
“Chocolate!” she grinned.  
  
Beezy clapped her hands and in a matter of seconds, a large, triple layer chocolate cake appeared on a platter. Icing floated through the air, draping the moist dessert in elegant folds. The words “Happy Birthday” appeared in gold lettering, then Beezy paused. “What name is going on Mistress’ cake?”  
  
Branwen started to spell out “R-e-m-” but Sirius pushed her aside and shouted, “Moony!”  
  
“Sirius!” She slapped his shoulder. “That’s insensitive!”  
  
“He’ll love it! Trust me.”  
  
Beezy looked back and forth between them, clearly waiting for Branwen’s word on the matter. She rolled her eyes. “Moony will be fine.”  
  
The word wrote itself on the cake, finishing off the masterpiece.  
  
“Thank you, Beezy,” Branwen smiled at the little elf, who blushed and bowed.  
  
“Mistress, if Beezy may say, birthdays need more than cake. Will it trouble Mistress if Beezy brings more?”  
  
Branwen glanced at Sirius, who shrugged. She nodded to the elf.  
  
Beezy scurried back into the cavernous kitchen, then reappeared with a basket on her arm. It was overflowing with sandwiches, fruits, and thermoses full of tea and cocoa.  
  
“Thank you so much, Beezy!” Branwen beamed.  
  
“It pleases Beezy that Mistress is pleased!”  
  
Branwen leaned down and placed a kiss on the elf’s cheek. She squealed and her hands flew to her face to cover a blush before scurrying away.  
  
Sirius and Branwen carried the cake as if it was made of glass. It was a miracle, in retrospect, that the two of them were even able to make it out of the kitchen with the cake, much less up several flights of stairs to the hospital wing. The basket of extras from Beezy swung from Sirius’ arm (Branwen argued that he ought to carry it since he had strong Beater arms – he couldn’t resist the flattery). Still, they managed, and a few minutes later were barging into the room.  
  
Even though dawn was still a few hours away, Remus was awake, sitting up and shuffling through chocolate frog cards with James and Peter. The two boys jumped up when they saw their friends entering with the cake. They shouted and lifted their wands to shoot out a barrage of red sparks that read “Happy Birthday!”  
  
Remus’ mouth dropped open. “I-I was-wasn’t expecting – well….this,” he stammered.  
  
“You can’t tell us it’s your birthday and not expect something, mate,” James said. “In fact, my mum will probably be furious she didn’t know about it ahead of time.”  
  
Remus blushed, then glanced at the cake. “Why does it say ‘Moony’?”  
  
Sirius grinned, “My idea! Thought it would make a great nickname for our little….” he glanced around dramatically, even though he knew they were alone, then whispered loudly “….our little werewolf.”  
  
Remus wanted to be angry at the jab at his condition, but he was so overwhelmed by his friends’ shower of affection that he just laughed. It sent sharp pains through his ribs and chest, but he couldn’t stop. They all joined in and soon there was a near riot of mirth echoing through the room.  
  
Madam Pomfrey typically allowed the group of friends plenty of space during these monthly visits, but tonight she burst out of her office, wrapped in a dark red dressing gown. “What is the meaning of all this noise?” She crossed her arms. When she saw their trove of treats, she raised a brow and tried desperately to suppress a smile. “I see you little marauders managed to pilfer a whole cake this time.”  
  
They glanced at each other, unsure of what to say. Branwen had frozen with a slice of cake outstretched to Remus, and Peter already had icing on the corner of his lips. Sirius quickly grabbed a thermos. “Care for a cuppa, Poppy?”  
  
Pomfrey’s frown grew a little more stern as she strode toward them. “Don’t make me take points from you, Mr. Black. Not after Miss Potter’s stunning victory yesterday,” she smiled once more. “Now, I don’t care for tea, Mr. Black, but how about a slice of that cake?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pomfrey came up with the name "Marauders" - the conch has spoken XD


	31. Moonlight and Malfoy

James was right about the fury of his mother. Shortly after Branwen owled Euphemia to let her know that she had missed out on three years worth of birthdays for her boys, a Howler, the most dreaded of all correspondences, found its way to James at the breakfast table.  
  
“Ooohhh,” he groaned.  
  
“Better open it, mate,” Peter gulped down his pumpkin juice and scooted a few inches away from his friend.  
  
James opened the red envelope gingerly, holding it at arm’s length. It jerked from his hand and Euphemia’s voice roared through the Great Hall. “James Potter! How dare you ignore your friends’ birthdays! For three years! There’s a package coming later and if you think there’s anything in it for you, you have another thing coming, young man!” The envelope turned to the red-faced boys sitting nearby. “Happy Birthday Sirius, Remus, Peter. Don’t let my children drag you into any trouble. Love to you too Branwen, dear.” The envelope dropped and shredded itself.  
  
There was a loud chorus of laughter in the Hall, but, to James’ relief, it was short-lived as most of the students quickly began to file out for their morning classes.  
  
Branwen giggled and patted her brother’s shoulder. “Honestly, I thought it was going to be worse.”  
  
A package did indeed arrive later, though it included a small gift for James, contrary to his mother’s threat. Among the gifts was a trove of candies, some fine journals and quills, and several bright new ties. Even Branwen received a lovely new edition of “He Flew Like a Madman”, though her birthday was still a month away.  
  
It wasn’t her birthday that excited Branwen as March drew to a close though. This was the longest the four of them had gone holding the Mandrake leaf in their mouths. The excitement was beginning to build for all of them. But something else was building as well.  
  
With a week left for the leaves, Branwen and the boys were spending an evening studying in their usual alcove in the common room. Lily, Marlene, and Mary entered and began to gag. “What is that stench?!” Lily cried.  
  
The others in the room raised their noses and began to sniff. It soon became obvious where the foul scent was coming from.  
  
“Potter,” Lily approached, pinching her nose tightly, “don’t you ever brush your teeth?”  
  
His face flushed and he ducked behind his Transfiguration textbook.  
  
“And you, Lupin, how can you stand being this close to these foul gits? Lupin? Lupin?”  
  
Remus looked up when she repeated his name. He squinted at her, then smiled, and swished his wand a few inches from his face. “Ah, Evans. Looking lovely today. Oh, dear,” he paled, then swished the wand again as the stench assaulted his nose.  
  
Lily smirked. “Bubblehead charm? Smart.”  
  
Branwen rolled her eyes. As Lily and her friends headed for their dorm (as did most of the other students now that the odour was permeating the room), she whispered impatiently, “Don’t forget, we have to get those phials tonight.”  
  
Their plan was to sneak down to the Potions lab after curfew using the Invisibility Cloak. Branwen had staked out a set of phials that sat on a top shelf behind Slughorn’s desk. Their only use seemed to be to gather dust. Their biggest appeal to the group of friends was that they lay just below a window, allowing them to “receive the pure rays of the moon,” a necessity dictated by the Animagus process.  
  
They stayed in the common room until they were the only ones left – which didn’t take long considering the stench they were giving off. Once they were alone, James pulled out the cloak and they all huddled beneath it before exiting through the portrait hole. It was a long way down from Gryffindor tower to the dungeons where the Potions classroom was, and it was slow going. Prefects were out and about, chatting with one another as they patrolled the halls. Twice, Mrs. Norris sat directly in their path, staring as though she could see straight through the cloak. After nearly an hour, they descended to the dungeons.  
  
They were nearly within reach of the door when a smooth, drawling voice carried down the stone hall. “Cissa….you’re so lovely….mmm….so ready for me….”  
  
The Gryffindors’ eyes widened and Sirius made a motion as if to vomit.  
  
“Lucius, please,” Narcissa Black’s whisper replied, “you know we have to wait. If our parents found out….”  
  
“Damn our parents.”  
  
Narcissa giggled. “Brave words, Malfoy. We both know you’re going to need daddy’s money once you graduate. Which won’t be long now.”  
  
“Yes,” he sighed. “I hate leaving you here for a whole year. Just promise me you will stay away from that Dolohov fellow.”  
  
“Oh please. You know he doesn’t have nearly as much money as you,” she giggled again. “You’re the one I should be worrying about, anyway. Out there in the big, wide world without me. Shall I ask Bella to keep an eye on you?”  
  
He chuckled. “You don’t have to worry about me. No one in the ‘big wide world’ can compare to you.” There was the sound of heavy snogging, before Malfoy pulled back and said, somewhat breathlessly, “Besides, you know I’ll be busy.”  
  
Narcissa huffed. “Yes. With your silly boys club. What do you call it – the Death Eaters? I don’t know what you think you’re going to accomplish.”  
  
“Accomplish? My dear, we’ll settle for nothing less than the domination of the wizarding race over the Muggle world. We’ve lived in secret for too long –”  
  
“Save me your sales pitch, Lucius, I’ve heard it all before. Pureblood rights and all that. Just kiss me for now.”  
  
The sound of heavy breathing, lips pressing together, and quiet moaning filled the hall. The Gryffindors took advantage of the moment of passion to slip through the Potions room door.  
  
Once inside, Sirius resumed his gagging pantomime and James had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep him from getting carried away with his over the top noises. Peter stood stock still, his entire complexion a hot shade of red. He looked as though he had lost any bit of innocence he had left. Remus was looking anywhere and everywhere but at his friends.  
  
“Forget them,” Branwen whispered loudly. “We have to get those phials before Malfoy decides to start his rounds again.”  
  
“Oh, I think he’s already going a round or two,” James smirked.  
  
Remus rolled his eyes and smacked his friend behind the head.  
  
“Son of a banshee!”  
  
Branwen yelled so loudly that even she froze in place, waiting for Malfoy to come bursting through the door and clap them all in detention. They waited almost five minutes before Remus finally tip-toed forward and whispered, “What’s wrong, Bran?”  
  
“The phials; they’re full!” She climbed onto Slughorn’s desk and reached for the glass bottles. Grabbing the four they had intended on nabbing, she passed them around. Each was brimming with a bright green liquid.  
  
“What is it?” Sirius unstoppered his and took a whiff.  
  
“Taste it,” James elbowed him.  
  
“Don’t. You have no idea what’s in there. It could be poison for all we know.” Remus snatched the bottles from both of them, but nevertheless stuffed them in the pocket of his robe.  
  
“Why don’t we just use some of these?” Peter pointed at a cabinet against the wall full of empty phials.  
  
“It has to be one that’s been in the moonlight, remember?” Branwen sighed, her voice heavy. Reaching up, she yanked the leaf from her mouth. “No use going on with this if we don’t have those phials.”  
  
They were all subdued as they quietly sneaked back to their dorms, avoiding Malfoy and Black, who were still snogging (or possibly more) against the wall.  
  
“Good night, boys,” Branwen kissed her brother on the cheek.  
  
“Hey Bran?”  
  
“Hm?” She paused with her foot on the first step of the staircase.  
  
“Go brush your teeth,” he grinned.


	32. A Small Problem

Branwen was inconsolable the next morning at breakfast. She ladled herself a bowl of porridge but only stirred her spoon around in it. None of the boys seemed to know what to say since they weren’t particularly enthused themselves. Peter could only manage two helpings of bacon.  
  
“Hey,” Sirius perked up. “We still have those phials.”  
  
Everyone stared daggers at him.  
  
He sighed. “What I mean is, if we find out what’s in them, we might be able to have a little fun.”  
  
“What are we going to do? Waltz up to Sluggie and say ‘hey, we stole these from your office last night, mind telling us what’s in them?’” Remus rolled his eyes.  
  
Sirius pouted, then said, “Maybe.”  
  
James started to perk up a bit. “You might have something there, Siri. Tomorrow’s the match with Slytherin and Hufflepuff. Then Monday is April Fool’s. The possibilities for mischief are endless!”  
  
“Well,” Branwen drawled, “I do have Potions today. Maybe I can try to find something out.”  
  
As it turned out, Branwen had the answer to the Potion mystery handed to her on a silver platter. The Gryffindors had Potions with the Slytherins and they all shuffled into the dungeon classroom after lunch. Branwen and her room-mates, Alice Farless and Emmeline Vance, found seats together while Regulus sat behind them with his friends, Jakob Flint and Parker Parkinson.  
  
Slughorn was waiting for the class and as soon as the last student took her seat (Kendall Bruce came running in, face-flushed), he clapped his hands together. “Now, to begin the class, I have a small request. You see, a few bottles of Shrinking Solution seemed to have, uh, disappeared overnight. I brewed it only yesterday as an example for my third-years. Four bottles, all gone!  
  
“Now, if any of you know anything, I won’t be angry. Just let me know, and I’ll be happy to take them back.”  
  
Branwen, who had been tapping her quill distractedly, sat bolt upright at Slughorn’s revelation. Almost immediately though, she slouched back down, trying to avoid the professor’s eye. The only one who noticed her moment of excitement was Regulus. His eyes narrowed at the girl in front of him, but he said nothing.  
  
When none of the students responded, Slughorn shrugged. “Very well, then. If you see any tiny people roaming around, let me know.”  
  
Branwen was grinning widely when she sat next to her brother and friends at dinner that night. Without saying a word, she piled her plate high with shepherd’s pie and hot, buttery dinner rolls. She kept smiling and humming until Peter leaned across the table. “Um, everything okay, Bran?”  
  
She smiled, then took a smug bite from her roll. When she was sure that all eyes were on her, she swallowed and said, “I know what the Potion is.”  
  
This time they all leaned in, eager for the answer to their riddle.  
  
“It’s a Shrinking Solution.”  
  
“Wow.” The boys leaned back, impressed with their inadvertent discovery. Shrinking Solutions were on their syllabus for the year, but walking out of the classroom with even one bottle would have been a one way ticket to detention.  
  
James leaned his elbows on the table and tented his fingers. “Well, well, well. This opens up a world of opportunity. We must decide carefully how best to use this gift that has so serendipitously landed in our laps.”  
  
“There’s a match tomorrow,” Sirius said eagerly, “what if we shrunk the brooms? Or the balls? Or the players!”  
  
“I like the way you think, my friend,” James threw an arm around his shoulder.  
  
“Just a minute,” Remus spoke up, “if we do something so obvious, they’re going to know exactly where that Shrinking Solution went. We’ll get caught for sure.”  
  
“Moony, for a prank of this magnitude, it’ll be worth it.”  
  
They decided on the prank that evening and even Remus had to admit that it was going to be good. The next morning, the entire school would be emptied as all the students and staff would turn out for the Hufflepuff/Slytherin match.  
  
It was easy enough for the boys to stay behind, as they were the only ones in their dorm. Branwen had to feign a headache to Alice and Emmeline when they tried to drag her out of bed. They groaned but left her with some chocolate and their promise to wish Dorcas the best of luck.  
  
Branwen waited nearly half an hour after her room-mates left, then threw back her covers, pulled Mrs. Lupin’s poncho over her pleated skirt and raced down to meet the boys. They were just coming down the stairs from their own dorm, also dressed in casual weekend attire.  
  
“Ready, Bon-Bon?” James threw an arm over her shoulder and wiggled one of the bottles of Shrinking Solution in his other hand.  
  
“Ready,” she grinned.  
  
The five of them marched downstairs, more boldly than they had ever done on any of their secret missions. Today, the only ones who would be around to stop them would be Filch and Mrs. Norris, and even they could be counted on to be furtively watching the game from one of the towers facing the pitch.  
  
They entered the Great Hall, then James nodded, “All right. You know what to do.”  
  
The three other boys spread around the room while James poured half of his phial into a spare that he handed to Branwen before running toward the Gryffindor table. Branwen ran to the front of the hall. “Ready,” James lifted his hand, “go.”  
  
At the same time, each of them poured the contents of their phial onto one of the five tables in the room. The Great Hall shimmered, then seemed to grow a hundred sizes. What happened in fact, was that all of the enormous tables had shrunk to mere inches. Tables that could have easily sat over a hundred students could now barely seat a few dolls.  
  
“Yes!” They all ran to the middle of the hall and high-fived.  
  
“And now, we wait.” They decided they would sit along the wall, hidden by the Invisibility Cloak, until they could see the reactions to their handiwork. It wasn’t long before Remus, who had always thought Quidditch matches began too early, was slumped onto Branwen’s head, snoring loudly.  
  
“Why don’t you shut him up, Bran?” Sirius grumbled.  
  
“You poke him, Peter,” Branwen replied, “he’s squishing me.”  
  
Peter had to jab his friend several times before he jerked awake. “Huh? Oh, sorry,” Remus blushed and straightened up. “Um, how much longer do you think it’ll be?”  
  
“Depends,” Branwen shrugged. “You know, Regulus is playing today.”  
  
“So?” Sirius grunted.  
  
There was an awkward silence that stretched out until Remus started to nod off again. After nearly an hour of waiting, the sound of the doors opening in the Entrance Hall echoed through the room. Remus gave a startled snore, then sat bolt upright. It was only a moment later that the doors of the Great Hall swung open.  
  
The laughter and chatter that had been growing in volume with the approach of the students stopped as suddenly as if a silencing charm had been cast.  
  
The first voice that floated through the hall spoke in a dreamy, yet confident manner, “Ah. Been visited by Nargles, have we? I’ve been expecting this ever since they put up all that mistletoe at Christmastime.”  
  
A hushed female voice chided, “Xeno!”  
  
There was a pregnant pause before the sound of laughter started. It bubbled then swelled then exploded as the students pushed and shoved each other forward to get a look at the incredible sight of the huge hall filled with tiny tables.  
  
Even as several of the professors made their way in, there were more chuckles than stern faces. Flitwick, especially, seemed amused, and took longer than was strictly necessary restoring the tables to their rightful size.  
  
When the Hall was full of enough students that they thought it would be safe, James swiped off the cloak of and revealed the five Gryffindors rolling on the floor in laughter. They kept howling with delight until three exasperated students shoved their way to them. “I should have known you were involved in this, Potter.”  
  
“Lily! What a pleasant surprise,” James leapt to his feet and dusted off his corduroy pants.  
  
“Let’s see,” Lily pursed her lips. “Pleasant? No. A surprise? Also no.”  
  
Behind her, Snape and Regulus snickered.  
  
“What are you looking at, Reg? Snivellus?” Sirius growled.  
  
“Oh, nothing,” Snape assumed an uninterested air. “It’s just amusing how funny you find your little jokes when, in reality, they are never more than a minor inconvenience.”  
  
“An inconvenience, huh? Let’s see how inconvenient this is,” Sirius had just enough solution left in his phial to toss in the Slytherin’s face. There was a tiny “poof,” then Snape was gone and standing in front of them was a six inch miniature.  
  
Regulus stepped back. Like Lily, he seemed disappointed, but not surprised at his brother’s actions. He eyed Branwen with disdain, as though holding her accountable for everything that had happened.  
  
Lily was having none of it though. “Sirius Black!” she screeched. “Calvorio!” A red light shot from her wand and the next thing any of them knew, Sirius was on his knees, sobbing and screaming.  
  
The attention of the entire Hall was on them now, and as they crowded in for a closer look, they were met with a sight far stranger than that of shrunken tables. Sirius Black was clinging to the knees of Peter Pettigrew who was patting Black’s completely bald head. Every strand of his long, black hair lay pooled around him, a sad remnant of its former glory.  
  
Beside him, Lily Evans and a doll that looked suspiciously like Severus Snape, were convulsing with laughter. Regulus Black, Remus Lupin, and Branwen Potter stood nearby with their mouths agape. James Potter’s wand was in his hand and he looked ready to retaliate until Professor McGonagall finally burst through the crowd.  
  
“What in the name of Merlin is going –” When she saw them, she pinched the bridge of her nose and took a very long, deep breath. “Why am I not surprised?”  
  
When she had gathered herself sufficiently, McGonagall gave a wave of her wand. Snape was restored to his full height and Sirius’ hair reattached itself to his head. Still whimpering, Sirius’ hands went to his head, combing through his lusciously restored locks with frantic excitement.  
  
“I don’t even know where to begin with you three,” she looked down her nose at Lily, Sirius, and James. They had never seen her lips so tight nor her nostrils flare so wide. “By all rights, I ought to banish you two boys from Quidditch for the rest of the year.”  
  
James and Sirius looked as though they had been sentenced to execution by firing squad. McGonagall sighed. “However, I will not put the rest of the Gryffindor students in danger of losing the Cup because of your irresponsible, ludicrous behaviour. So, instead, I will expect lines from all of you,” she made sure to include Lily in her pointed stare, “stating that ‘I will not hex my fellow students.’ Two rolls of parchment each.”  
  
Lily looked ready to argue, but quickly thought better of it and tightened her jaw.  
  
“You will all also be missing out on the final Hogsmeade weekend of the year. Instead, you will be serving detention with Mr. Filch.”  
  
“Us too, Professor?” Peter squeaked.  
  
McGonagall stared at him over her square-rimmed glasses. “Are you eager to receive the same punishment, Mr. Pettigrew?”  
  
He looked down and mumbled, “No ma’am.”  
  
“Very well, then. Potter, Black, Evans, I will expect those lines on my desk tomorrow morning.”  
  
They waited until she had turned and was out of sight before groaning. “I hope you’re happy, Potter,” Lily jabbed him in the chest with her wand.  
  
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because spending a day with Filch is my idea of a good time.” Then he winked. “Although, a day spent with you –”  
  
She was gone before he could finish his tasteless comment.


	33. End of Term

With another Hogsmeade weekend sacrificed and the next Quidditch match nearly two months away, the end of the year seemed to crawl by. The monotony of classes and homework was only broken by two full moons, and of course the periods of recovery that followed.  
  
The friends did come to one decision, however. They would wait until the following term to begin their Animagus process again. Too many false starts and botched attempts had left them discouraged and they agreed that a mental break would benefit in the long run.  
  
With little else to distract them, they easily shot to the top of all their classes. Not that they had been very far behind. It was only their “extracurricular” activities that had occupied their energetic minds and distracted them from the occasional assignment.  
  
With nothing else to divert them, they applied their zeal to schoolwork, surprising most of their professors with their achievements. McGonagall, however, had a knowing look in her stern eyes every time they turned an assignment in on time. Pomfrey had informed her dear friend that the monthly visits to her ward had morphed into intense study sessions. Branwen especially soared beyond her classmates as she benefited from the experience of the older boys.  
  
Finally, year-end exams were within sight, as was the last Quidditch match of the season.  
  
There were perfect conditions the day of the match. Not so hot as to be uncomfortable, but warm enough for the students in the stands to relax in short-sleeves and casual attire. Remus was the only exception; his school robes were enough to start him sweating, but they covered his scars and he refused to take them off.  
  
The match was set to be a difficult one for the Gryffindor team. Ravenclaw’s youngest player was in his third year and with the majority in their fifth or sixth years, they used every ounce of their experience against the younger Gryffindors. Their age gave them only one disadvantage.  
  
Ravenclaw Seeker Amelia Bones was in her fifth year and as tall as she was ever likely to become. Compared to Branwen’s lithe, adolescent form, Bones was almost cumbersome in her ability to make turns and put on speed.  
  
Ravenclaw’s Chasers though, started scoring on Keeper Alex Jordan almost from the first blow of the whistle. Loud cheers and boos following every score. It wasn’t long before the score stood 50-200 in favour of Ravenclaw.  
  
Branwen cruised the pitch, growing worried. If she caught the Snitch now, her team would only tie with Ravenclaw. If Ravenclaw caught the Snitch though, they would soar to an outstanding and embarrassing victory.  
  
So when she spotted the Snitch zipping above the heads of the Slytherin students, she leaned forward and put as much speed as she possibly could into chasing the tiny orb.  
  
Bones was quick to react. She knew to keep an eye on the opposing Seeker and was on Branwen’s tail in a fraction of a second. Despite her heavier frame, she still managed to fly within a few feet of Branwen’s broom. Branwen hesitated. She was nearly within reach, but a tie would hardly help them in their chase for the Cup. Come on, James, she thought. Score just one more.  
  
Whether it was sibling telepathy or mere coincidence, Branwen heard an uproar from the Gryffindor stands. The cheers and whistles told her it was a goal for their team. Knowing now that the Snitch would secure their victory, she put on a final burst of steam, inching as far forward on her broom as she dared without upsetting the balance. When she thought she couldn’t stretch her arm any further, she leaned and stretched just a little bit more. The next thing she knew, the cold metal of the Snitch was resting the palm of her hand and she was nearly deafened by the screaming roar from the crowd. With this victory, they had secured the Quidditch Cup.

  
The last night of the term featured the end of the year feast where it was revealed that Gryffindor had won, not only the Quidditch Cup, but also the House Cup (in spite of the numerous points lost by the two Potters and their friends).  
  
Nevertheless, Branwen was subdued. She had packed earlier in the day, so after the feast, she joined the boys in their dorm. Dangling her head over her brother’s bed, she flipped through one of Peter’s copies of “The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle,” sighing with every turn of the page.  
  
“Why the long face, Junior?” Sirius flopped on the bed beside her, his trunk barely half-packed. “You’re leaving for America tomorrow. The land of the brave….or so they say,” he shrugged.  
  
“That’s just it,” she frowned. “We’re leaving tomorrow from Hogsmeade instead riding back with you on the train. I’m going to miss you all so much,” she sat up and threw her arms open wide, encompassing all the boys.  
  
“Don’t worry, Bran,” Remus folded his final jumper into his trunk before settling his textbooks alongside it. “You’re going to have lots of fun. You’ll get to see Ilvermorny and the Magical Congress of the United States and the memorial at Salem.”  
  
“Forget that boring history stuff,” Sirius waved a hand, “you have to play a game of Quadpod while you’re there. And wrestle a Hodag.”  
  
She sighed. “It just won’t be the same without my boys.”  
  
“You can always write to us,” Peter smiled before the sound of Gobstones rolling across the floor elicited a loud groan.  
  
Branwen brightened. “I will! And you boys write to me too. But send it to the house. I don’t know how well the post operates in America.”  
  
“No offence, Bran,” Sirius patted her shoulder, “but you probably won’t be getting any letters for me. Even if my mum wasn’t censoring my mail during the summers, writing for recreation isn’t really my thing.”  
  
“Me either,” James laughed. “I can guarantee you aren’t going to hear from me until September.”  
  
“Would you boys even talk to each other if it weren’t for me?” Branwen rolled her eyes.  
  
Remus closed and locked his trunk with a wave of his wand. “Don’t worry, Bran. I’ll write back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is kind of lame. I was getting bored of this year and I have a lot plans for the next one, so I wanted to wrap it up. Look in the next one for Branwen's take on the magical community in America.


	34. Branwen Takes America

Branwen was true to her promise to write.  
  
In fact, there was a parcel waiting on the Lupins’ doorstep when they returned from Kings Cross. It must have left the Hogsmeade Post Office even before the Express pulled out of the station.  
  
The full moon was only three days away and the package contained everything Branwen had brought during her first visit to the hospital wing: a thermos of tea, a bag of chocolates, and her worn copy of “Tales of the Beedle the Bard.” The page on which “The Fountain of Fair Fortune” began was dog-eared. The short note attached read only: Be safe. B.E.P.

  


  
The next letter was much lengthier:

Dear Remus,  
I can’t believe I’m finally here in America! It’s all so exciting.  
We flew over on a Muggle aeroplane. James kept teasing me because I was scared. He said that I shouldn’t be afraid because I fly on a broom all the time, but I told him that it’s completely different being trapped in a metal tube a million miles above an ocean. Merlin, the noises that thing made – I thought we were going to crash any minute.  
When we finally got here, Mum and Dad bought James and me special Muggle cameras called “Polaroids.” They print pictures as soon as you take them! Dad is convinced there’s magic involved, but Mum says the inventors are definitely Muggles. By the way, did you know that they call Muggles “No-Majs” here? It’s very weird.  
Anyway, we’re staying here in the MACUSA building in the hospitality suites they have reserved for foreign visitors. We met the headmaster of the Mahoutokoro School of Magic when we were checking in. He was very kind and gave me a fan that transfigures into a cherry blossom when it’s closed. I’m sure you already know that they mostly use cherry wood for their wands over there.  
Dad’s arranged for us to meet the MACUSA president in the morning, after we pick up his and mum’s wand permits. James says we have to bow when we meet the president, but I don’t think that’s right. We’ll see I guess.  
Hope you’re doing well. Remember to write me. I want to have lots to read when I get home.  
Love, Branwen

Attached was a Polaroid of Branwen and James standing outside the Woolworth Building in New York. It was blurry, since they were both trying to wave; clearly they’d forgotten it wasn’t a wizarding photo and therefore wouldn’t capture movement. Still, it was impossible to miss the smiles on the siblings’ faces.

  


  
The next letter came a week later.

Dear Remus,  
Today we visited Salem, Massachusetts. You remember from Binns’ class about the trials that happened there. Witches and muggles executed for no reason at all. Dad was furious that the Muggles don’t have a memorial there, since their own kind were persecuted too. They just wander up and down the streets as happy as can be, as if they don’t even know or care about the tragedy that surrounds them.  
There’s a magical monument, of course. On the edge of town, there are twenty-five granite stele with the names of the victims inscribed on them. There’s also a plaque that talks about how MACUSA was formed after the trials.  
Remus, please don’t tell the others, but I’m properly frightened. What if something like that were to happen again? Isn’t that what Malfoy was talking about? And that Voldemort guy. They said that Muggles would kill us on sight if they knew about us. I didn’t really believe it until I got here. I just don’t ever want to see the names of people I love carved in stone like that.  
I’m sorry this wasn’t a happier letter. I hope you’re doing well. Tell your mum and dad I say hello.  
Love, Branwen

The picture attached showed a very solemn Branwen staring up at a stele engraved with the name Bridget Bishop.

  


  
Another week later:

Dear Remus,  
I wish you could be here! We got to visit Ilvermorny today. It was amazing, but still nowhere near as good as Hogwarts.  
In their Entrance Hall, they have carvings of their House mascots: the Horned Serpent, the Wampus, the Thunderbird and the Pukwudgie. Apparently, the statues choose who they want in their Houses. Sounds awful to me. What if none of them choose you?! At the least the Hat seems a little more impartial since it’s not loyal to any one House.  
We also met some funny little creatures called Pukwudgies. They’re sort of a cross between elves and goblins. They’re very grumpy – although everyone was pretty grumpy after James started playing with a screaming yo-yo that sings the Hogwarts school song. At least we can’t get detention since we’re not students here! Hogwarts forever!  
Love, Branwen  
P.S. I’ve sent along a book on the history of Ilvermorny and magic in the U.S. I hope you don’t have it in your library yet.

There were a few pictures with this one. One showed Branwen standing by a large totem of what Remus could only assume was a Pukwudgie and another of what must have been a real Pukwudgie. The last photo showed Branwen standing in the Ilvermorny Hall of Fame, grinning and pointing at a bust of Porpentina Scamander, the wife of British magizoologist Newt Scamander.

  


  
The next letter was almost two weeks coming:

Dear Remus,  
It took me a while to write this letter. I haven’t written anything to Sirius or Peter about what happened, and I wasn’t sure if I should write to you about it either. But I thought maybe you’d like to know….I’ll start at the beginning.  
About a week ago, we got to a place called New Orleans. It was very interesting at first. The magic there is so strong that even the Muggles feel it and believe in it. They don’t hide their shops from the Muggles like we do in Diagon Alley. They’re just out there for any one to walk into. I was happy to see so much openness; it almost made me forget about Salem.  
That was until we went to visit one of the American wandmakers, Violetta Beauvais. She’s a graduate of Beauxbatons. Truth be told, she frightened me as soon as I walked into her shop. She had all kinds of awful things hanging about: screaming shrunken heads, blood-stained tarot cards, and little dolls that had human hair and needles sticking into them. Then she showed us her wands and I found out what the cores are made of.  
It’s so awful, I can hardly bring myself to write about it. She uses Rougarou hair! I couldn’t have ever imagined. Especially in a town that seemed so open to diversity. To think that they would hunt down lycanthropes….well, that’s when I did something I shouldn’t have.  
I haven’t done unintentional magic since I was seven and made all of James’ hair fall out after he cut mine when I was asleep. But I was just so angry, standing there in that shop with that horrid woman smiling at me. The next thing I knew, glass was exploding everywhere. Potions on the shelves, display cases, the shop windows. Dad had to cast a shielding spell before we were cut to ribbons.  
I was so embarrassed, but James said that if I hadn’t done something, he was going to go up and punch her.  
Anyway, my dad had to smooth things out with a representative from MACUSA. They told him that I almost set off an international incident; an underage witch performing magic outside of school in a foreign country. We were lucky they didn’t deport us or jail us right then and there.  
Needless to say, we left as soon as possible.  
After that, I’m ready to come home and leave this whole awful country behind, but mum and dad want us to follow through with the trip. They promise it will be better from now on.  
I can’t help thinking though, that just leaving a city or country doesn’t change anything. Once we leave New Orleans, that awful Madam Beauvais will still be exploiting helpless lycanthropes and there’s nothing I can do. And it reminds me that, here I am, thousands of miles away from you, and soon it will be another full moon. I wish I could be there to help. But really what help am I?  
I’m sorry. I’m just really down right now. James says I’m homesick. I guess he’s right.  
Maybe send a picture with your next letter? I want something nice to greet me when I’m finally rid of this backwater country.  
Love, Branwen

There were no photos.

  


  
Dear Remus,  
We’ve been on a tour of “the Southwest” for the last week and finally having some fun!  
Our first stop was in a town called Sweetwater where we watched an American Quidditch match. The crowds there make games at Hogwarts look like knitting circles. It was so loud and they were setting off buzzers and horns and fireworks every few minutes. They didn’t even seem to care who was winning; they were just having a good time – one that, based on the smell – was helped along by Firewhisky.  
Of course, James fit right in. He bought a pair of cowboy boots and something called a ten-gallon hat. It has a star on it that sings a tune called “Home on the Range” every time you say the word “Texas.”  
Next we went to visit the Scamander Thunderbird sanctuary in Arizona. They were so beautiful! I told Dad that I wanted one, but he said there wouldn’t be any room for it in the house. Also that it’s illegal to own them as pets, much less export them from the U.S.  
Then we went to a place called the Grand Canyon. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my whole life. It’s like a sunset painted on stone. Muggles sometimes ride donkeys down to the canyon floor, but we got to fly on tame hippogriffs. I know you hate flying, but I think you would have liked this. I think I may even like flying on hippogriffs more than brooms!  
Only one more stop next week. A city called San Francisco. Write to you from there!  
Love, Branwen

There were almost a dozen pictures this time. Some of them showed various Thunderbirds from the sanctuary. There was one of James in his over-large hat and shiny boots. In another, James and Branwen were holding pennants emblazoned with the logo of the Sweetwater All-Stars. Branwen obviously wasn’t happy with the way the Grand Canyon photographed, because there were several taken from the same point, some blurrier than others. There was only one of Branwen herself. She was sitting on her hippogriff, hugging the animal’s neck with a huge grin on her face.

  


  
Dear Remus,  
Wow! What a great end to our trip! I hope I’m able to take you to San Francisco one day; it’s been my favourite stop so far.  
It’s beautiful, right on the ocean and full of pretty, colourful buildings. There’s even a row of houses called the “Painted Ladies.” We also walked across a bridge the Muggles call “The Golden Gate Bridge” even though it’s actually red. Or maybe orange.  
We visited with the ghost of a young woman who drowned in a lake almost a hundred years ago. She was very kind and spoke with us for some time about the history of the city. Apparently there was a big earthquake there at the turn of the century. She had a lot of sad stories to tell, but also of heroism and happiness.  
Then we visited a place called Alcatraz. The Muggles used it like a prison, like Azkaban. When James heard that, he started freaking out, thinking there would be dementors there. I’m never going to forget the look on his face! He almost got left behind when we touched the port key.  
There were ghosts there at Alcatraz too, but they were not the friendly sort. We had to have a guide come with us to ward them off. There’s also a poltergeist there. He was probably the most frightening. Even the Muggles talk all about the things he does: slams cell doors, screams, rattles chains.  
When we got back to the mainland, Mum and I went shopping. I know you probably aren’t interested in that part, but it really was great fun. You should see the things these Muggles wear! But the best part was that every where I went, they complemented the poncho your mum made for me. Would it be too presumptuous to ask for another one this Christmas? I wear this one all the time and it’s getting a little frayed.  
I know you’ll like this part though: We went on a tour of a Muggle factory called Ghirardelli and all they make is chocolate! It was amazing! Of course I bought you some, but you’ll have to wait for it until I see you in September. I’m not sure how well food travels in transcontinental post.  
We’re going to be leaving tomorrow to come back home. James begged mum and dad for us to go visit the Sasquatch reservation in the Northwest, but mum says that we have a lot to do before we leave for school. She’s right too; I’m ashamed to admit I haven’t even begun my essay for DADA! You may have to help me on the train ride back to school.  
I hope things are going well for you and that your mum and dad are supplying you with enough tea and chocolate.  
See you soon!  
Love, Branwen

  
The pictures that accompanied this one were the best yet. A stranger must have acquiesced to take one of the photos, as it showed all four Potters grinning on the Golden Gate Bridge. Another showed James and Branwen with their pant legs rolled up and toes immersed in the bay. One of them must have been taken after Branwen’s Muggle shopping spree. She was wearing a crown of daisies on her shining black hair and had on a short paisley-patterned dress, with white knee high boots. There was a peace symbol around her neck on a gold chain and she was making the peace sign with her fingers. The last photo showed only one thing: her ticket home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarification, Rougarou are essentially werewolves; legends of Rougarou traveled from France with immigrants to Canada and down the Mississippi to the Louisiana area. 
> 
> Also - the book officially has over a thousand hits! You guys rock! <3 <3 <3


	35. Change of Plans

Remus was, at first, surprised by all the mail he received. Then he feigned annoyance. Didn’t Branwen know that he had essays to write? Didn’t she know how much those international-post owls ate? Didn’t she know that normal people had better things to do on holiday than write to their lame school friends? His parents listened to his complaints with knowing smiles. They heard him muttering about “stupid girls” one day as he was pinning up a collage on his wall of all the photos she sent. On more than one occasion, Lyall came home from work to see his son leaning out the window of his room, eagerly scanning the skies.

  


The full moon in August came on the second day. On the first, Remus lay in bed with a high fever.  
  
Hope came up to his room with a towel and bowl of ice water. She pushed the damp hair from her son’s sweating brow and watched his chest heave with every laboured breath. It was all she could do not to break down and sob over her his aching body. She blinked the tears from her eyes and allowed them to stray to the photos tacked on the wall beside his bed. “These are lovely,” she smiled. “That Potter girl is very kind, writing to you this much.”  
  
Remus managed a small smile and nodded.  
  
“She’s very pretty too, isn’t she?”  
  
His eyes squinted open. “Mum….”  
  
“Oh, hush,” she said. “I just said she was kind and pretty. I never said you had to marry the girl.”  
  
“Good. Because you know why I can’t….”  
  
“Now stop it. I don’t want to hear any of your self-pitying nonsense about never being able to have a relationship. Not everyone will push you away because, because….”  
  
“Because of my condition? Mum, look at yourself.” He grabbed her wrist with a weak grip. Hope Lupin was still a young woman, but her once sunny, blond hair was now streaked with an ashen grey. Her face was thin and pale, her fingers calloused from performing years of menial jobs. Those fingers now stroked the rough cloth gently over her son’s flaming torso. He dropped her arm, then sighed. “What woman would want to do this for the rest of her life?”  
  
Hope paused, her eyes landing on Branwen’s copy of “Beedle the Bard.” She smiled, “Neither of us has given up on you yet.”  
  
Remus gave a lung-rattling sigh. “She’s too young.”  
  
“I’m five years younger than your father.”  
  
“She’s James’ sister.”  
  
“So you’d be his brother.”  
  
“Mum,” Remus’ voice was getting weaker.  
  
“I’m sorry, darling. Forget I said anything.” She leaned down to press her lips to his brow and was startled at the burning sensation. “I’m going to go run an ice bath for you, love.”

  


  
Remus received one final letter from Branwen that summer. When he took it from the owl, he glanced nervously at his mother. She was in the sitting room, working on the mending she had taken in from the village.  
  
“Is fro’ de Po’er gurl?” she asked, her mouth full of pins.  
  
“Yeah,” he answered. “It’s a Howler.”  
  
“Well,” she took out the pins, then winked her son, “would you like me to leave the room?”  
  
He rolled his eyes, then ripped open the envelope, allowing it to shout its message.  
  
“Remus! I can’t believe I forgot about the next full moon! It’s on the first of September! The day we leave for Hogwarts! Don’t worry. I’m going to talk to my parents and figure it out. Hang tight and wait for another letter to come soon. Oh, and tell your mum and dad hi!”  
  
Hope tried (and failed) to suppress a laugh while her son turned the colour of the envelope that was now ripping itself to pieces.

  


  
Early the next morning, another owl arrived, this time addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Lyall Lupin.  
  
Lyall and Hope,  
I do hope you will forgive my daughter’s hasty missive of yesterday. She has been in quite a state since our return from America. She has not divulged any details, however I gather that it has something to do with your son.  
On my wife’s suggestion, I owled Minerva McGonagall and she suggested that our children take the Floo Network to Hogwarts, rather than the Express. If you can arrange for Remus to be at our house on the morning of Sept 1st we’d like to offer the use of our fireplace for the trip. I’m extending the same offer to the Blacks and Pettigrews. I hope this is convenient for you.  
I also hope that Branwen has not caused too much of a stir. She does have a tendency to the dramatic at times, but her instincts are almost always correct (both traits I believe she inherited from her mother).  
Awaiting your owl.  
Sincerely,  
Fleamont H. Potter

  


  
  
At eleven o’clock on September 1st, Lyall Lupin Apparated to the Potter House with Remus and Peter in tow, just as he had the summer before. This time, however, he was far more concerned about leaving his son. Peter lugged his trunk up the front stairs and disappeared into the house, but Remus stood still, his hand still firmly in father’s.  
  
“Remus,” Lyall watched him from the corner of his eye, “are you sure about this? I can arrange with McGonagall for you to come later in the week.”  
  
Remus was pale, but he nodded, “It’s okay.” Then he chuckled. “Besides, Bran would kill me if I backed out now.”  
  
Lyall released his hand and used it to ruffle his son’s hair. “I’m glad you have them, son. I’m sorry you’ve had to go through so much of life without friends. I hope you keep these ones close.”  
  
“Thanks, dad,” Remus gave him an awkward, one-armed hug.  
  
“Reeeemusssss!” Branwen came shooting through the open front door, barrelling into her friend. “I’m so happy to see you! Wait, I thought I saw your dad,” she glanced around, her arms still tightly wrapped around his torso.  
  
Remus glanced around as well. He hadn’t realised his father was gone until she pointed it out. The small “pop” he had heard must have been Lyall Disapparating. He rolled his eyes, hoping his father hadn’t been listening to his mother when it came to Branwen. He was distracted from his thoughts when the girl in question leaned back and caught him in her gaze. “Merlin, you got tall!”  
  
It was no understatement. He had shot up over the summer so that Branwen would have had to stand on tiptoes to even reach his chin. His growth spurt had mostly negative effects, though. The hem of his pants now hovered at least an inch above his socks and his long sleeves tugged uncomfortably every time his arms moved. He looked more than ever like a scarecrow held together by mere fraying patches.  
  
Branwen’s scrutiny had drifted to something else, however. Her eyes were scanning every inch of skin she could see, looking for new marks, anything to tell her what had happened to her friend over the summer. She wanted to see what he hadn’t written about, even between the lines. Though the last moon had been a full month ago, there was still a scab just above his left ear and the greening remains of a bruise on the underside of his jaw.  
  
He knew what she was doing; it was the same thing his mother did every morning after his transformations. So he told Branwen what he always told his mother: “Don’t worry; it wasn’t so bad.”  
  
To his surprise, Branwen copied another of his mother’s mannerism. She frowned, then yanked on his sleeve, popping open the button on the cuff. His arm was littered with fresh, bloody striations.  
  
“Oh Remus,” she gently ran her fingers over his ruptured arm.  
  
Remus swallowed. Her action was so simple, yet so comforting. An unfamiliar shudder ran through him, and he jerked his arm away. “It shouldn’t be a surprise by now. You’ve seen what happens.”  
  
“Yes, but these –”  
  
“Come on,” Remus shoved his sleeve down and started dragging his trunk up the steps.  
  
Branwen followed slowly. She started to open her mouth again, but James and Peter came racing down the hall. “Moony!” They shouted in unison before tackling their friend. Their group hug quickly turned into a wrestling match, that spilled into the parlour. They tumbled and crashed around, smashing a chair, an expensive Egyptian urn, and James’ glasses.  
  
Euphemia came running in, hand at her throat, but as soon as she saw the boys, she smiled. A quick “Reparo” from her wand restored both the chair and the urn. Once she had managed to part them, she simply pulled a new pair of glasses for James from the pocket of her robes.  
  
“Hey, when’s Sirius getting here?” Peter sat on an armchair, puffing from the fight.  
  
“Didn’t James tell you?” Euphemia conjured a goblet of water for the boy. “Sirius will be meeting you in Professor McGonagall’s office. That mother of his….if I ever see her repugnant face again….shouldn’t be allowed to have children, someone like her….”  
  
“Uh, mum?”  
  
Euphemia looked startled. She was still holding the goblet, her knuckles white with rage at the thought of whatever Walburga had done this time. “Right, well,” she handed the goblet to trembling Peter, then smoothed back her grey hair. “All right. Let’s make sure you’re all ready to go.”  
  
Before they left, Euphemia double- and triple-checked their trunks, making sure they had all their books and robes and enough quills and parchment for the year. (When Remus wasn’t looking, she stuffed three of Fleamont’s cardigans into his trunk with a vow to herself to find a way to get the boy a new wardrobe soon.) Then she handed them each a lunch pail, filled to the brim with the best of Cassie’s goodies. Each of them received a red lipstick kiss to their brows before departing through the fireplace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope is a highkey shipper of...is it #Bramus? #Rewen?


	36. Here We Go Again

James, Remus, Peter, and Branwen tumbled from the fireplace into a room they were all too familiar with. McGonagall was seated behind her desk, fingers tented, square-rimmed glasses glinting in the green light of the Floo flames. Seated on two stiff wooden chairs in front of the her were Sirius and Regulus Black.  
  
“Sirius!” James lost no time rushing to embrace his friend and Sirius nearly toppled his chair to the floor to meet him. They clasped together as though it had been two years since they were parted, rather than two months.  
  
“Welcome back to Hogwarts, boys, Miss Potter,” McGonagall inclined her head to the newcomers, then consulted her watch. “You have a few hours yet if you’d like to go to your dormitory and unpack.”  
  
“A few hours until what?” Regulus was watching them all with narrowed eyes. He had no idea why his mother had insisted he come to school early with his brother. He was furious to have missed the train ride which should have been a time to reunite with _his_ friends and not these ridiculous Gryffindors. His mother had only told him to keep an eye on Sirius and report back to her.  
  
“Mr. Black,” McGonagall spoke to the youngest brother, “I’ve spoken to Professor Slughorn and he told me that he could use your help in the Potions classroom this evening. He indicated there would extra points for your House, so I suggest you take him up on it.”  
  
Regulus sat for a moment, eyes darting between his professor the other students, but finding no way out, he slunk from the room. Before he crossed the threshold though, he shot one more glance in Branwen’s direction.  
  
Had her hair always shone like that, dancing above her shoulders like a curtain of black flame? Or was it just a trick of light in the dim room? And surely she had put on weight over the summer, only she didn’t look any fatter, just….softer. He frowned to himself. What exactly did she see in those boys she fawned over? Sure, Potter was her brother, but Sirius was a real prat, Lupin looked like an overgrown bowtruckle, and Pettigrew was just a pig.  
  
Regulus could feel his teeth grinding as his jaw tightened, so he shook his head, clearing away the curious thoughts. Then he pulled his shoulders back and strode toward the dungeon stairs.  
  
The Gryffindors followed shortly after, making their way up to their common room. The Fat Lady was shocked to see students arriving so early, and told them so. “What are you five doing here? The train can’t have arrived already! Go back wherever you came from. And don’t make me tell the Headmaster!”  
  
James rolled his eyes.“Dragon-nest.”  
  
The Fat Lady gasped. “How do you know the new password? Professor McGonagall gave it to me only this morning!”  
  
“Dragon-nest,” Sirius repeated.  
  
With a disgusted huff, the Fat Lady swung open and allowed entrance.  
  
Branwen ran to her room first; her trunk had already been delivered, so she dug around in it for the packages she needed, then set off to rejoin the boys. She was half-way up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory when they flattened into the anti-sneaking slide.  
  
“Really?” she brushed herself off. “Are we going to be doing this again?” A moment passed, then the stairs resumed their usual form. She smiled. “Thank you.”  
  
The room was suspiciously quiet when Branwen pushed open the door. She had expected the boys to be chatting away, catching up on their summer adventures, but all four of them were huddled on the hearth rug, their heads bowed over something in James’ lap. Sirius chuckled and pointed at whatever it was and Remus hissed something in reply.  
  
“Hello, boys. What are we looking – ah!” Branwen bounced over to peek over their shoulders, then fell back shrieking, her hands over her eyes. “James! Mum _forbid_ you to buy those magazines! What are you doing with that here! And why are you all looking at it!”  
  
Sirius slid the magazine across the floor, clearing aiming to hide it beneath his bed, but it fell short. The (very-nearly) nude woman on the cover looked unconvincingly shocked.  
  
“Wait to go, gits!” James growled, grabbing the magazine and tossing it back into his trunk. “You just scarred my little sister for life!”  
  
“Scarred yourselves, is more like,” she snapped. “You think women actually look like that? Maybe if Muggle women have some kind of magic that we don’t know about.”  
  
Four pairs of eyes turned to her, then swiftly jerked away. Red in the face, they looked everywhere and anywhere but each other. Peter grabbed a pillow from the bed and slid it on to his lap, swallowing thickly.  
  
“Ugh. Boys,” Branwen rolled her eyes. “Here, enjoy my gifts instead. At least they’re appropriate for mixed company.” She ran back to the bed where she had deposited the three packages. “These are from me and James and my parents.”  
  
To cover their embarrassment, the boys dug into the wrappings as quickly and energetically as possible. Sirius was the first to get his open. “Woah!” It was the most reverent he had ever sounded. In his hands was a black leather jacket. He held it up to allow them all to bask in its glory, before jumping up and sliding it on. He ran to the mirror on his wardrobe and pirouetted, trying to see himself from every angle.  
  
James peered over his shoulder. “Are you crying, mate?”  
  
“No,” Sirius coughed, but continued to run his hands over the supple leather.  
  
Behind him, Remus and Peter had their presents open as well.  
  
Peter pulled out a large box. It was bright and colourful with pictures of a candy-coated house and candy-bearing tree. The name of the game was, unsurprisingly, Candy Land. Branwen rushed over to explain. “We found a store in New York City that sold wizarding versions of Muggle games. This one is played with actual candy!”  
  
Then she turned to Remus. He was turning over a handsome wooden box with the company name “Voges” etched in gold lettering on the lid. Inside was half a dozen of the finest quills in the wizarding world.  
  
Branwen leaned on his shoulder and pointed at each of the feathers in turn. “Look! This one’s from an Eagle. That one’s a Pheasant. There’s a Fwooper, a Snallygaster, a Jobberknoll, and a Raven. You can’t find another collection like that anywhere!” She beamed. “I know because I customised it myself at the factory in New York City. And look here,” she reached between his hands and pulled out the bottles of ink that were nestled at the bottom. “This shade is called ‘Amazonian Gold’ and it’s made with real gold! And of course all the other specials are here: invisibility ink, glow-in-the-dark, colour change, self-correcting….” she stopped chattering and blushed when she realised he was watching her with amusement.  
  
“Thanks, Branwen,” Remus chuckled. He leaned forward and found his lips a breath-space from her cheek before he jerked back and awkwardly patted her hand.  
  
“Um, mates,” James held up his watch and tapped the face.  
  
They all bolted upright, dumping the presents unceremoniously onto the beds. Branwen raced back to her room to grab her cloak while the boys scooped theirs from their trunks. They met back up in the common room, where James tossed the Invisibility Cloak over the five of them.  
  
It wasn’t until this very moment that they realised how much taller they had all grown over the past two months.  
  
“Scoot closer, Peter.”  
  
“You’re standing on my foot, Moony.”  
  
“Sirius! Stop breathing down my neck.”  
  
It was slow going, the five of them stumbling over each other while trying to stay concealed. To make matters worse, the whistle from the Express could be heard in the distance. Soon, the castle would be flooded with new and returning students. The five friends barely made it to the base of the Whomping Willow before the clatter of the first carriage drew even with the Entrance Hall.  
  
Once they were in the tunnel, they were able to shed the cloak, but that didn’t make things much more comfortable. For most of the way, James, Sirius, and Remus were knocking their heads against the earthen ceiling, despite stooping as low as they could. They finally reached the trapdoor with a few minutes to spare.  
  
Remus was already sweating and breathing hard. Branwen squeezed his hand and smiled. “It’s going to be all right now.”  
  
He nodded frantically, then jumped the six feet from the tunnel floor into the Shack.  
  
Branwen watched James seal the trapdoor behind their friend.  
  
As the time dragged on, the boys shifted restlessly. Branwen leaned her head against the wall, starting every time a crash or howl sounded from above.  
  
James kept glancing at his sister, then whispered something to Sirius and Peter. The three of them scooted away from her and when she heard the silky rustle of paper, she realised her brother had brought that dirty magazine with him.  
  
Rolling her eyes, she inched even farther away from them and reached into her cloak. Since they had left in such a hurry from the Potter House, she hadn’t found time to read the letters she’d received over the summer. She took them out now and read them from the light of her wand.  
  
There were one or two from her room-mates, filling her in on their activities and thanking her for the gifts she had already sent from America.  
  
Then came the letters from Peter. Much like Branwen’s letters when she was stuck at home, they were full of the mundane details of daily life. The weather is nice, mum made a lovely dinner yesterday, the gardenias are coming along nicely. There were a few things of which Branwen made note. Apparently the gang of Muggle boys was still tormenting him. He also said that his parents were getting something called a “divorce.” She thought she had heard that term somewhere before, but she couldn’t recall what it meant. Maybe it had to do with the new job his dad was getting. He wrote that his dad would now be living in Spain and that he would be living with his mum from now on.  
  
Branwen expected the next letter in the pile to be from Remus, but was shocked to see Sirius’ swirling script. The envelope was addressed to James. She glanced at her brother. He was giggling at something in the magazine while Sirius made a lewd gesture. Neither of them noticed when she ripped open the envelope as quietly as possible.

_____ _

_____ _

Dear James,  
I know I said I wouldn’t write this summer, but it’s just so bloody boring here. Mum keeps me in the house all the time now. No Floo Network, no owls. Not even a broom. Merlin, I am going to be so out of shape for Quidditch this season! And with Fairchild gone and Shacklebolt as our new captain, I may as well hand in my bat now. His drills are murder!  
Can you believe I even finished my homework? That’s how boring it is here. I picked “means of transportation” as my subject for the Muggle Studies essay. When I was done, I tore out a photo of one of those motorbikes from the textbook and stuck it on my wall. Kreacher found it and tore it down. The next time, I put it up with a permanent sticking charm. You should have heard him howling when it wouldn’t come down.  
Reg always nags me for tormenting Kreacher, but that stupid elf is nothing more than my mother’s spy and shadow. When she goes out of the house or has guests over, she makes him my warden. Although, I have to admit that even Kreacher can be preferable to some of the arses my mother entertains.  
Last week, she let that git Voldemort use our place for a sort of meeting. I was locked in my room with Kreacher of course, so I don’t know exactly what happened, but Reg told me that most of our family was there, and the Malfoys, and a bunch of other purebloods. Reg is really keen on Voldemort, you know. Even has a picture of him up in his room. I tried to tell him the bloke’s no good, but he won’t hear anything against him.  
I did have one nice break from all this paradise. Last weekend, my uncle Alphard somehow convinced my mother to let me got and visit him. We had a grand old time. Alphard and Mother get along like water and oil. He’s everything Mother hates: a single, rich playboy who doesn’t give a damn about bloodlines or kissing up to the right people. I’m going to be just like him someday.  
Mother would hate Alphard even more if she knew that my cousin Andie came to visit while I was with him. Andie is Cissy and Bella’s sister; she got disowned by my aunt and uncle when she married a Muggle-born bloke called Tonks. They have a kid now. Her name is Nymphadora. I have no idea what possessed Andie to call her that, except that maybe of the Black cruelty lives on. The kid is cute though. She’s a metamorphmagus. She doesn’t have much control over it, but she can change her hair colour and even managed a pig’s nose once.  
I wish I could have stayed with Alphard instead of coming back to bleeding Grimmauld Place. He said he would take me in a heartbeat, but my mother would never let him. I’m telling you, mate, I can’t wait until I turn seventeen. I have to get out of here before I go mad like the rest of them. Reg says I should just move out now, but I don’t know where I’d go. It’s not like I have any money of my own.  
If I could, I’d stay at Hogwarts year round. Although I guess it would be boring there too if you gits weren’t around all the time. Speaking of, how do you reckon our furry little friend is getting along? I suppose he’s okay with his parents. Have you heard anything from Peter?  
Actually, don’t answer those questions; at least, don’t send a letter back. Regulus is letting me use his owl to send this, but I can’t ask you to send one back, or Mother might get suspicious. Reg doesn’t really get many letters during the summer, except from those two gits, Flint and Parkinson, and one time from Snivellus.  
Well, I guess a foot of parchment should do it. I’ll see you in September, mate.  
S.O.B.  
  
Branwen sighed as she resealed the envelope. Poor Sirius. He talked about how much he hated it at home, but she hadn’t realised it was this bad. She would definitely be writing to her parents about this. They knew better than most how to deal with Walburga Black.  
  
Wanting to put Sirius’ sad summer out of mind, Branwen turned to the final set of letters in her hand. They were from Remus. There were fewer of them than she had hoped. Still, she tore into the first eagerly.

Dear Branwen,  
I’m glad to hear you made it to America safely in the aeroplane. I rode with my father in a small biplane once. It wasn’t so scary. I think the reason I dislike brooms so much is because there’s not much to hang on to. I always feel like I’m going to slide right off.  
It’s incredible that you got to meet the Japanese headmaster! I just read in Quidditch Times that their Quidditch captain, Haru Hongo, is being scouted for international teams.  
If you have time while you’re in New York City, maybe you can see some of the Muggle monuments too. The Statue of Liberty is said to be particularly breathtaking.  
Before I sign off, I really want to say thank you for the gift that was waiting for me. My mum nearly cried when she saw it. She’s so happy that I finally have friends. Perhaps next year I can have all of you over to my place. She may die of giddiness.  
Looking forward to the next letter.  
Yours, R.J. Lupin

  


Dear Branwen,  
I’m sorry that your visit to Salem was so melancholy. Still, it’s good to know that the wizarding community remembers its past, even if the Muggle one doesn’t.  
And don’t worry about Voldemort. Remember, we’re under the protection of Dumbledore, and he’s the greatest wizard that ever lived. He defeated Grindelwald, and I’m sure this Voldemort is nothing compared to him.  
Anyway, I’m sure you’re still having a better time than I am. It’s quite dull here. My mother got me a new book this week. It’s called “Pride and Prejudice.” It’s a little feminine for my taste, but you can borrow it when I’m finished and see if you like it.  
Yours, R.J. Lupin

  


Dear Branwen,  
Thank you so much for the book on Ilvermorny. I’m looking forward to reading it.  
It’s silly to think that none of the Houses would choose you. I was browsing through the list of House characteristics and it looks like, if you had attended Ilvermorny, you would have been a Pukwudgie. I would definitely have been a Horned Serpent. I’m glad we both went to Hogwarts so we ended up in the same House. I think you’re right about the Hat knowing what it’s doing. It thought about Ravenclaw for me, but I can’t even imagine now what it would be like to be anything other than Gryffindor. I’m especially grateful for my Gryffindor friends; who else would be ~~foolish~~ brave enough to befriend a werewolf?  
I love the picture with Porpentina Scamander. She was an excellent Auror and her husband’s works are legendary. Perhaps we’ll get to meet them someday. I believe they’re living in Dorset now, but Mr. Scamander has been known to visit Hogwarts from time to time.  
I hope you continue to enjoy your journey.  
Yours, R.J. Lupin  
P.S. You had better tell James to watch those pranks though. I wouldn’t put it past the Ilvermorny headmaster to contact McGonagall and give him his detention when he gets back.

  


As Branwen flipped through the parchments, she realised there was no reply to her longest letter, sent from New Orleans. The next was postmarked after her letter from Arizona.

  


Dear Branwen,  
I’m glad you got to visit the Grand Canyon. Father showed me some photos of it on his slide projector, and it looks incredible.  
I’ll be surprised if you don’t come back with a Thunderbird in your pack. You tend to accomplish something once you put your mind to it.  
I think I would be willing to try riding a hippogriff. Providing it’s a tame one. We studied hippogriffs last term in Care of Magical Creatures, and the ones Kettleburn brought in from the Forbidden Forest weren’t exactly kittens.  
Tell James I like his boots, but the hat is a bit much.  
Yours, R.J. Lupin

  


Dear Branwen,  
San Francisco sounds like a fun place. I’m glad you got to visit the ghosts and go shopping with your mum. By the way, you may regret asking my mum for more ponchos. She already has about five more planned and I think I saw her pick up some dress patterns at the shop today. Honestly, I think she always wanted a daughter. Someone she could dress up and go shopping with and all that. They probably would have had more kids if I hadn’t been….well, you know.  
Guess I’ll be seeing you soon. Have a safe trip back.  
Yours, R.J. Lupin

  


Branwen pocketed the letters with a sigh, her mind racing. She was confused and….disappointed? She flipped through Remus’ letters again. They were so….short. Didn’t he even think about her at all during the summer? Or was she only worth the five minutes it took to jot down a polite reply?  
  
Then, in her mind’s eye, she saw again the clean, even lines that bloodied his forearm. She sighed and hugged herself tight. It was going to take more than a bit of scribbling on parchment to sort this out.


	37. In Sickness and In Health

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of self-harm. If this is a trigger for you, please do NOT read. I promise that the narrative will still make sense.   
> If you are struggling with self-harm or suicidal ideation, please call the suicide hotline at 800-273-8255. This is not just a disclaimer. I have called myself and it saved my life.   
> You are loved!

There were many more chilly, dark hours before the moon set. Thankfully Branwen had the presence of mind to grab her DADA book before running down the tunnel. Now she flipped it open and began scanning for passages that would help her write the essay that was due the next day. Truthfully, she thought it would help her fall asleep, but when Remus began to howl in that half-human voice that bespoke his agony of changing, she was the first to leap to her feet, prodding the boys until they too were awake.  
  
Like so many moons before, the five of them made their way to the hospital wing under the cover of darkness. Branwen and Peter were the only ones to use the cloak this time. There was no way it would have fit over James and Sirius while they supported their friend’s prone body. If they came upon Filch, the two boys at least had the excuse that their friend had taken ill in the night; not a complete lie after all.  
  
They made it to the hospital wing without incident and deposited Remus on his usual bed. The other boys collapsed onto the surrounding beds, while Branwen perched beside Remus. Her eyes traced all of his new wounds, taking stock of how many, how deep, how severe. His ribs were bruised, not unusual. His right hand was mangled, fingers bloody and crooked. And above his left eye was a new gash, overlapping his old scars.  
  
“Where is she?” Everyone started at the sound of Peter’s voice.  
  
“What?” James stifled a yawn.  
  
“Where’s Pomfrey? She knows what night it is….doesn’t she?”  
  
Branwen stood up and looked frantically around. “He’s right!”  
  
She ran to the door of Pomfrey’s office and knocked several times. “Madam Pomfrey? Madam Pomfrey, are you in there? It’s – it’s the night of the full moon, Madam Pomfrey.”  
  
There was no answer.  
  
Branwen glanced back over her shoulder. Remus was groaning, and his jaw clenched and unclenched. James and the others were nervously rocking on their feet. They looked like lost children.  
  
Branwen’s eyes narrowed and she nodded to herself, reaching an internal decision. Running to the dispensary, she threw open the door and grabbed the apron hanging beside it. She rifled through the contents of the storeroom, pulling out what she needed, discarding what she didn’t. In her haste, she didn’t stop consider why the door had been unlocked or why the apron was just her size  
  
Her dogged, determined manner softened as she approached Remus once more. “Rem?” She waited until he turned his head to watch her through bleary eyes. “I’m going to help you, since we can’t find Pomfrey. Is that all right?”  
  
He nodded and his head rolled back on the pillow to stare up at the ceiling.  
  
Branwen came forward and cradled his broken fingers in the palm of her hand. He let out an involuntary whimper. “Episkey.” She tapped her wand on the twisted digits. There was a nauseating sound of bone popping and cracking back into place. Before moving on to the other wounds, she tapped the hand once more. “Ferula.” Bandages shot from the tip of her wand and wound themselves around his hand, tying themselves off tightly.  
  
Then she selected a phial of purple liquid. It began to smoke when she pulled out the stopper and Remus’ body tensed as the potion trickled over his brow. The new cut vanished almost instantly, leaving only a pink scar behind.  
  
Finally, Branwen pulled out a salve that she massaged into his torso, paying special attention to his gaunt, bruised ribcage. The purple colouring started to fade, and Remus let out a long sigh.  
  
“Well done, Miss Potter.” The friends jumped when Pomfrey strolled into the room.  
  
“Madam Pomfrey,” Branwen breathed, “I – I looked for you. I’m sorry I –” she awkwardly shuffled her feet.  
  
“It’s quite all right, dear. In fact, I’m very impressed with the way you handled Mr. Lupin’s injuries. Shall I leave the dispensary door open every month now?”  
  
Branwen glanced around at the boys for support, but they were all as wide-eyed and confused as she. “Um, ma’am?”  
  
“You don’t think I would abandon my favourite patient, do you? I was watching, but I had complete confidence in your abilities, Miss Potter.”  
  
Branwen flushed a bright red, beaming at the Healer’s compliment.  
  
Pomfrey smiled and walked through the room raising curtains to allow the rising sun to flood the ward. “Miss Potter, why don’t you go take a rest. Eat some breakfast, get your class schedule, then come back this evening. We’ll have some tea, and I’ll release your young man.” She nodded toward Remus, who was now passed out on his cot.  
  
“Yes ma’am,” Branwen said slowly. Not knowing what else to do, she and the other boys slowly filed from the room.  
  
“Hey, Bon-Bon,” James stopped her outside the room by grabbing her shoulders. “Pomfrey’s right. You did a fantastic job with Remus. She’s right that you need some sleep too. The boys and I are going to shower before breakfast. Can I trust you to take care of yourself?”  
  
Even as she nodded, James knew there was nothing he could do to enforce his advice. So it was no surprise when Branwen stumbled through the hospital wing doors just after classes let out, looking no better (in fact, far worse) than she had in the morning.  
  
“Branwen –”  
  
Remus was cut off when Pomfrey came bustling over, leaving the bed of a first-year with a severe case of homesickness. “I thought I gave you orders to get some sleep, Miss Potter. What is your excuse for this, this state you’re in?”  
  
“Been busy,” Branwen muttered.  
  
Pomfrey huffed. “Come with me.”  
  
Branwen followed the older woman through the ward and into her office. “Sit.” A plush chair jerked itself under her knees, forcing her down. “Eat.” A kettle in the corner began to sing and it, along with a plate of biscuits, soared onto a tray. “I was prepared to make you an offer, Miss Potter, but now, I’m not so sure that you’re ready for it.”  
  
“Please, ma’am,” Branwen quickly grabbed a biscuit and downed a scalding gulp of tea. “I can handle….whatever it is.”  
  
Pomfrey sighed. “Miss Potter, you show great potential for a Healer. If it’s a path you wish to pursue, I will support you in anyway I can. I’d like to begin by having you assist me here one evening each week. That will, I hope, bolster your skills enough that you can be responsible for Mr. Lupin’s care when….when he requires it. Is that something you would be interested in?”  
  
Branwen had a biscuit in her mouth and crumbs tumbled from her lips as she smiled. “I would like that very much, ma’am.”  
  
Pomfrey did not return her smile. “However, the fist thing a good Healer knows is that you cannot care for others if you have not first cared for yourself. Frankly, my dear, you look a fright at the moment. When was the last time you slept? Ate?”  
  
Branwen’s tired mind tried recall an answer. “I tried to sleep the night before we got here, but I was so excited….”  
  
“I thought as much. Now, I’d like you join Mr. Lupin out there as a patient.”  
  
“But, Madam –”  
  
“There will be no arguments. When you are rested and in a better state of mind, we’ll discuss a schedule for your training. Now, get out.” Pomfrey handed her a pair of pyjamas then followed her from the office. She set the tray of tea and biscuits on the table between Remus and the empty bed beside him. Branwen crawled into this bed, and Pomfrey left them to examine the homesick first-year once more.  
  
“Branwen….what’s wrong?” Remus closed the book in his hand and leaned toward her bed.  
  
“Madam Pomfrey offered to take me under her wing. Teaching me Healing.”  
  
“That’s great,” he beamed, “but, uh, why are you in bed? You sick?”  
  
“Sort of. She’s not happy with me….you know…. not eating or sleeping.”  
  
“Well, good for her, then, making you stay here,” Remus nodded with a frown. “You look like shit.”  
  
Branwen rolled her eyes. “You know how to make a girl swoon, Lupin.”  
  
“Huh,” he leaned back on his pillows, arms crossed, “I reckon you are a girl now, aren’t you?”  
  
“For your information, I’ve been a girl for the past thirteen years,” she snapped. But when she turned to stare at him, she saw the humour sparkling in his eyes. She scrunched her nose and stuck her tongue out.  
  
He laughed loudly, then waited until the first-years was escorted out by a Prefect and Pomfrey disappeared back into her office. “Seriously though, Branwen. You can’t treat yourself like this.”  
  
“You’re one to talk,” she shot back, voice brittle.  
  
“What are you on about?”  
  
Branwen glanced around, then slid out of her bed to sit on the edge of his. She held out her hand. He looked down into her waiting fingers. He knew what she wanted, but made no move to satisfy her. She huffed, then grabbed his wrist and shoved back his sleeve. The gahses she had seen when he arrived at her house were still there.  
  
“No wolf made these,” she said quietly.  
  
“How would you know what a wolf can do?” he jerked his arm away.  
  
“I know that wolves don’t pack bloody razor blades in their trunks.”  
  
“Why were you going through my things?” he grumbled.  
  
“I was worried about you. I knew you were hurting, and no one is allowed to hurt my best friend,” she met his gaze.  
  
For a moment, blue and green eyes clashed, each daring the other to deny the truth. Then Remus’ head bowed and he stared helplessly at their hands, still intertwined. “You don’t know what it’s like,” his words came out as hardly more than a breath, “at home, during the holidays, without you and the lads. There’s nothing to do but feel pain. I try not to, but….”  
  
She reached out with her other hand to stroke his cheek with her thumb. When her fingers came into contact with his skin, she felt him shiver. He fell against her shoulder, clinging to her like a life-preserver. He didn’t cry. He never did. He just held on and shook as though every breath would be his last.  
  
“It’s going to be all right,” she finally whispered. “I’m not going to let you handle it alone. I promise.”  
  
He gave a shuddering sigh in response. She brushed through his hair with her fingers, then moved to stand. His grip on her hand tightened though. “Please.”  
  
She smiled.  
  
He scooted as far as could in the narrow bed, and she climbed under the blanket beside him. Unashamed of physical contact with her brother and friends, Branwen snuggled up to him, clutching his pyjama shirt in her fist. She was asleep almost instantly.


	38. Hogsmeade at Last

After Branwen’s summer in the States and her exhausting first day back at Hogwarts, the weeks that followed were surprisingly mundane. As a third year, she now had two extra elective classes. She chose Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes, which were both very interesting, but also heavy on homework.  
  
Quidditch practises started the second week of school. Bailey Fairchild had graduated at the end of the last term, so Kingsley Shacklebolt took her place as captain of the Gryffindor team. Edgar Bones had been named a Prefect this year as well, so he decided to give up his position as Chaser on the team to focus on academics. Rather than attempt to train two new team members, Shacklebolt decided to offer the open Chaser positions to Gideon and Fabian Prewett.  
  
The Prewett twins had been on Gryffindor’s Quidditch team until their fifth year, when they too had bowed to academic pressures. They came back from the recent holiday though to begin their seventh and final year with a renewed zest. They told anyone who would listen that they would take on that fellow Voldemort single-handedly (or rather, double-handedly, considering there were two of them). The only other subjects they cared to talk about were their two infant nephews, whose pictures they carried around almost constantly, and Quidditch. They zipped around the pitch in perfect sync, inventing moves that were not recommended for the faint of heart.  
  
With her Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays taken up with practise and Tuesdays now devoted to Madam Pomfrey, Branwen found little time for homework or anything else. It was only the boys’ continued tutoring that kept her at the top of her classes, though she ended up being more of a help to them when it came to Potions and Herbology.  
  
There was one bright spot in her calendar that had her eagerly marking down the days: her first Hogsmeade weekend.  
  
  
  
  
James threw himself onto the sofa between Peter and his sister. He wriggled until his head rested in Branwen’s lap beneath her Transfiguration textbook, then tossed his legs across Peter. “Ugh,” he groaned. “Why does Evans hate me so much?”  
  
“What did you do this time, James?” Remus was on the floor in front of them, absently paging through Confronting the Faceless (something he had picked up “for a bit of light reading” having finished his assigned works). Sirius was sitting nearby, sending a squadron of paper planes into the fire.  
  
“I didn’t do anything!” James continued with a dramatic sigh. “I just asked if she fancied going to Hogsmeade with me this weekend, and she turned me down.”  
  
“I was there,” Peter piped up. “She said she would rather use the Reductor Curse to pierce her ears than be seen in public with you.”  
  
James glared at him, but Sirius started laughing so hard he fell from his chair onto the floor. “Shut up!” James tossed a pillow at his face.  
  
Branwen finally set her book aside, realising she wasn’t going to get any more work done. “Are you really surprised though? I mean, look at what you do to her and Snape. Just last week, you filled his pockets with galleons, then set a Niffler loose on him.”  
  
James sat up. “Yeah. And it was hilarious.”  
  
Branwen rolled her eyes. “Look, all I can tell you is that if someone pranked you as much as you prank Snape, I certainly wouldn’t be dying to be seen with them.”  
  
“Well, apparently Evans’ friends aren’t as picky. She may have said no, but McKinnon said yes.”  
  
“James Fleamont Potter, you are a pig!” Branwen huffed. “The girl you fancy turns you down for being a prat, so you just go and ask her friend?”  
  
Remus was glancing between James and Sirius, who had instantly sobered. “Um, what did Marlene say when you asked her?”  
  
At this James gave a smug smile. “She said yes of course. She knows a good thing when she sees it.”  
  
Sirius took the pillow he was still holding and smashed it into James’ face. “You filthy git! You knew I was going to ask her!”  
  
Branwen shoved the boys apart. “Why does anyone have to go with anyone? Can’t we all just have fun together? It’s my first time out after all.”  
  
No one said anything. Sirius grit his teeth and stormed out of the room. James stood and stomped his way up to the dormitory.  
  
In the aftermath of the boys’ quarrel, Peter quietly whispered, “Uh, Branwen, would it be okay if I asked someone. I wanted to ask Charity Burbage.”  
  
“It’s okay, Peter,” Branwen smiled and patted his hand. “You ask Charity. In fact, would you like me to ask her for you? We have Herbology together tomorrow.”  
  
“Um, sure, okay,” Peter dropped his textbook, mumbling and fumbling, his face turning Gryffindor scarlet.  
  
Branwen smiled, then nudged Remus with her toe. “Anyone you want me to ask?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“As a date. For you. This weekend.”  
  
“Oh,” he flushed, “that’s all right. I was just planning on going with you. Can’t have you wandering Hogsmeade alone, can we?”  
  
  
  
  
After a week of rain, the day of Hogsmeade dawned with brilliant clarity. The crisp blue sky was dotted with puffy white clouds. A sharp breeze danced with the final leaves of the season and songbirds were eagerly snatching up the worms that had surfaced in the muddy ground.  
  
Branwen skipped into the Great Hall in high spirits. She was wearing one of her new outfits from San Francisco: bell-bottomed denim pants and a brightly-coloured gingham jumper. She wiggled a space for herself between Remus and Peter at the table. “Good morning, my dears,” she placed a kiss on each of the cheeks beside her. “Are you ready for our day out?” She reached for a buttery slice of toast.  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“Absolutely.”  
  
“By the way, Peter, I’m sorry Charity was ill. She told Alice to tell me to tell you that she would find you later if she’s feeling better.”  
  
“S’alright,” Peter mumbled around his waffles.  
  
Remus piled more eggs on his plate and eyed Branwen. “Will Aubrey and Cresswell be jealous if they see you with bus?” Remus asked.  
  
During the week, Branwen had received invitations from both Ravenclaw boys to go to Hogsmeade with them. She had turned them down flat. “That’s their problem,” she answered Remus.  
  
She glanced around the room. “Are James and Sirius not even going to stop by for breakfast? Oh.” Her voice dropped when her eye reached the end of the table. James and Sirius were leaning over heaping plates, laughing with Marlene McKinnon and Ivy Morris. Once Sirius had gotten his own date with the pretty Hufflepuff, he and James had buried the hatchet and agreed to a double date.  
  
James felt his sister’s gaze. He detached himself from his group and trotted over. “Good morning, Bon-Bon,” he kissed the top of her shining raven hair. “I have a present for you.” He pulled a hand from behind his back and produced a small leather bag embroidered with tiny yellow flowers.  
  
Branwen frowned. “James, that’s not from you. Dad bought it for me after I begged for three hours straight. I’ve been using it for the past three months.”  
  
“Ah! But when Dad bought it for you, could it do this?” Though the bag was, at most, a few inches deep, he shoved his arm into it up to his shoulder.  
  
“An expansion charm! Thank you, Jamie,” Branwen jumped up to hug her brother. She kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear, “I’ll talk you up to Lily if I run into her.”  
  
James hid a blush by kissing his sister back, then ran back to Sirius and the girls, who were now standing and slipping on their coats.  
  
“All right, boys,” Branwen slid the purse over her shoulder. “Let’s move out.”  
  
Remus stretched his arms above his head with a groan while Peter reached for an orange to stuff in his pocket. Once they were both standing, Branwen linked arms with them and they headed out the door.  
  
It was a pleasant walk to the village. The air smelled like rotting leaves and ripe pumpkins, and the sun lay gently on their skin. Windswept leaves curled and pranced around their ankles like so many tiny kittens. It tugged at Remus’ wavy locks and Peter’s thin blond fringe. Branwen had pulled on a knit cap and somehow, when the wind danced through her hair, it didn’t wisp around, but only shimmered in the sunlight.  
  
“What’s our first stop, Bran?” Peter asked, leaping over yet another puddle of mud.  
  
“Hmm….well, we definitely need to stop at Dervish and Banges to pick up some phials so we can start the Animagus process again. And then….”  
  
“Honeydukes,” Remus grinned wickedly, the image of rows and rows of chocolates running through his mind.  
  
“And don’t forget Zonko’s!” Peter chimed.  
  
“All right then, gentlemen, lead the way!”  
  
They had finally entered the town proper, and it was only her hold on the two boys that kept Branwen from becoming utterly lost in the crowd. They led her down the main street, dodging carriages, mud puddles, and other students. Alice, Emmeline, and Dorcas waved as they passed across the street. They passed the noisy entrance to the Three Broomsticks, the sweet scents of Honeydukes, and the dark street to the Hog’s Head before they came on Dervish and Banges.  
  
“What’s that way?” Branwen pointed down another street that intersected the High Road.  
  
“Oh, that’s the way to Madam Puddifoot’s,” Peter said.  
  
As Branwen watched the crowd meandering down the street, she realised that most of them were walking hand-in-hand. There was Caspar Montgomery and Bridget Latimer. Electra Zabini and Crowley Mulciber. Xenophilius Lovegood and Pandora Calistro.  
  
“It’s a good place for a snog,” a voice whispered in her ear. Branwen started before realising the chuckle came from Remus. She swatted his arm. “Like you would know, Lupin.”  
  
The three friends made quick work of the supply shop. Even though it had many more interesting items to inspect, for today, they were only there for phials.  
  
Having secured their supply, Peter dragged them into Zonko’s where he filled his bags with sugar quills and hiccoughing sweets. Branwen selected a handful of Dr Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks and some floral-patterned Nose-Biting Teacups.  
  
Remus only strolled around with his hands in his pockets. He had only a few Sickles to spend, and he was saving them for the new flavour of chocolate frogs Honeydukes was supposed to be carrying. After watching him walk by the display of Acid Pops three different times though, Branwen added a handful to her purchase. They would find their way to him somehow, as little surprises during the term or as a lump present at Christmastime.  
  
When all the purchases were shoved into the expanded bag, they made their way to Honeydukes. It was like walking into a golden heaven. It was filled with the heady scents of chocolate and sugar and coconut and caramel and fruit and treacle and….Branwen lost all track of thought and time running through the sweet delights.  
  
When the three friends finally surfaced into the chilly October air, their cheeks were red with laughter and a sugar high from the products they had already sampled. Remus and Peter steered Branwen in the direction of The Three Broomsticks.  
  
“Come on,” Remus shoved open the door from them, “I’ll order the butterbeers; you guys find a table.”  
  
“Oi, watch where you’re going – oh, Lupin,” Lily Evans tilted her head to look into the eyes of the taller boy. She eyed the other two behind him. “Did you three just get here?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m on my way up to order.”  
  
“Me too. Why don’t we go up together? Severus and Regulus are saving us a table over there,” Lily nodded toward the back wall where Branwen saw the two boys sitting stiffly beside one another. When she looked up, Remus and Lily were already on their way to the pub counter. She rolled her eyes, then led Peter to the table.  
  
Snape looked over the top of the Daily Prophet he was reading as the pair approached. “Potter. Pettigrew.” He went back to reading without another word.  
  
Peter sat down across from Snape. Branwen took the seat beside him, facing Regulus. The young Black managed a smile. “All right, Potter?”  
  
She nodded, although her gaze was fixed on Remus and Lily laughing across the room.  
  
“Ready for the match next weekend?”  
  
Branwen brought her attention to the boy in front of her. He had slicked back his hair with Sleekeazy's and wore a green silk tie tucked into his starched black shirt. He looked extremely formal for such a fun, casual weekend trip. She smirked. “Are you ready to have your arse handed to you on the pitch, Black?”  
  
He rolled his sleeves up and leaned on the table. “At least we don’t have to worry about integrating anyone new into our team. We’re still the well-oiled machine we were last term.”  
  
“You only wish you had players as good as the Prewetts to put on your team.”  
  
“Who ordered butterbeer!” Remus and Lily returned just then, passing the drinks out among their friends. Remus sat beside Branwen, Lily across from him. Snape finally set the paper down and glared at Remus.  
  
“Here, this is what I was talking about, Remus,” Lily reached around Regulus and snatched the paper from Snape, handing it to Remus. The headline read: Ministry Disappearances Continue.  
  
Lily took a swallow from her bottle, then continued a conversation she and Remus had begun before rejoining their friends. “Personally, I agree with the call for Minister Jenkins to step down. Sure, she handled the Squib Riots of the Sixties just fine, but this is an entirely different matter.”  
  
“Who would you have replace her?” Remus asked. “Minchum? Moody?”  
  
“Not Moody. He’s a great auror of course, but I think Minchum will be able to handle issues of policy better.”  
  
“Of course, we all know who would make the best Minister.” The entire table hushed as Branwen spoke up. She licked the remaining drops of butterbeer from her lips, then, when she was sure everyone was watching, she shrugged. “Dumbledore, of course. He’s the most powerful wizard of our age. If anyone can handle what the world has to throw at us, it’s him.”  
  
“Hear, hear!” Peter raised his glass.  
  
Before anyone else could respond, a bubble of laughter popped through the door and Branwen immediately recognised her brother’s voice. “Hey! There they are!” James and Sirius came tumbling in their direction. Marlene and Ivy peeled off, heading for the counter. The clatter of chairs scrapping on the wood floor surrounded their table.  
  
“So,” James leaned in. He glanced around, as though afraid of being overheard, but continued to speak in his usual boisterous voice, “we’re going to be having a party tonight in Gryffindor Tower. You there, Evans? And don’t say no,” he cut her off, “because Marlene already said yes. Ivy’s coming too. It’s an open House invitation,” he lifted his nose and sneered at Regulus and Snape, “except for Slytherin.”  
  
“I’m devastated, Potter” Snape rolled his eyes.  
  
“And no kid sisters either,” he threw an arm over Branwen’s chair. “all right, Bon-Bon?”  
  
“All right? You’re kicking me out of my own common room and you say ‘all right’?”  
  
Sirius threw his arm over the other side of Branwen, pinning her in. “Look, it’s not that we don’t want you there, kid, it’s just that – well, having a third year around kind of cramps our style.” His attention wandered to Marlene and Ivy weaving toward them through the crowd.  
  
Branwen huffed. “You know what, I think I’ve had just about enough of Hogsmeade. I’ll see you boys back at the castle.”She shoved back her chair and darted from the tavern. The buzz of students laughing faded as she neared the school, replaced by the quiet jingle of the glass phials in her bag and the distant call of a raven.  
  
Halfway back, she heard the sound of running footsteps from behind. She smiled and turned to meet the chaser, his name on her lips. “Rem – oh, Regulus,” her smile faltered.  
  
“Hey, Potter,” he puffed as he fell into step beside her. “Had to get away from those flobberworms before I hexed them all.” He cleared his throat when she said nothing. “You know, I’ve been thinking of getting some night practise in before the match next week. It’s supposed to be clear this evening, and if that brother of yours is going to kick you out of his lame party….”  
  
She scoffed. “My brother’s not the boss of me. I’m going to be there at the party too.”  
  
“With Cresswell and Aubrey?”  
  
“How do you know about them? And why do you care anyway?”  
  
At some point they had both stopped walking and were staring the other down. Regulus was the first to look away. “I’m going to be on the pitch at nine tonight.” Then he walked as fast as he could away from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's never specified in canon, but the Prewetts are twins in my mind :)


	39. Crash and Burn

When Branwen returned from Hogsmeade, she swapped her tailored pants and fitted jumper for her oldest and most comfortable pair of corduroys and one of James’ old Puddlemere United t-shirts. She curled up in of the over-sized armchairs, hidden from most of the common room by the suit of armour strategically placed beside it. The book Remus had lent her was open in her lap, and she was enjoying it immensely.  
  
_There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me."_  
  
It was only the sound of Remus’ soft voice that drew her from the ardent affairs of Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennett.  
  
“James, don’t you think you were a little rough on Branwen back at the pub?”  
  
“Had to be done, mate,” Sirius’ voice answered. “There’s going to be a mess of snogging in here tonight, and little sisters don’t exactly set the mood. Besides, you saw how she was with that magazine James brought. Practically a prude about it.”  
  
“That was different. I mean, it was pretty outrageous stuff.”  
  
“Still,” James spoke up, “you want her hanging around while you’re trying to get it on with that Hufflepuff, Nina Dawson?”  
  
“Who said anything about any one getting it on with Nina Dawson….or anyone else for that matter?”  
  
“Well, we aren’t exactly going to be playing Tiddlywinks in here….unless…..” Sirius made a gagging sound. “You don’t want to get it on with our little Bon-Bon, do you?”  
  
“Gross! You have a sick mind, Siri!” It was James who objected.  
  
Remus only sighed and said, “I just thought you should apologise for the way you talked to her, that’s all.”  
  
Branwen listened to their feet cross the common room floor and march up the stairs to their dormitory. Hot tears began to flow down her cheeks. She had never thought as herself as “gross” before. It wasn’t that she was interested in any of the them, or anyone at all, she told herself. But to hear her brother talk about her like that in front of their friends and realise that none of them came to her defence….she had never felt so miserably unworthy. She threw her book down and bolted to her room. Throwing the curtains around herself, she collapsed, sobbing, onto her bed.  
  
  
  
Having finally composed herself, Branwen took advantage of the pre-party disorder to sneak up to the boys’ room. She dug through her brother’s trunk and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. A jumper was laying on one of the beds and she grabbed it as well.  
  
Regulus had said that he would be on the pitch at nine o’clock. At 8:55, Branwen threw on both the jumper and the Cloak, grabbed her broom, and crept back through the common room. Able to observe without being seen, she took a moment to glance around the room.  
  
She quickly realised that the boys had used the word “party” with extreme liberalism. Frank Longbottom was playing wizard chess with Kingsley Shacklebolt in front of the fireplace. Nina Dawson and Ivy Morris were there, but they were talking with fellow Hufflepuffs Davey Gudgeon and Tilden Toots. Peter and Mary MacDonald were seated on one of the sofas; they seemed to be hardly speaking, but both had pink-dusted cheeks. Remus was engaged in a lively conversation with Lily while James hung nearby, laughing at all of Lily’s jokes and attentively supplying her with butterbeer he had sneaked from the Three Broomsticks. Branwen didn’t see Sirius until she realised he was the one in the leather jacket snogging Marlene.  
  
Branwen pulled out her wand. She needed to cause a distraction, and this was as good as any. “Auribus motus.” Sirius’ ears instantly started twitching back and forth like a startled rabbit. Marlene’s eyes opened and she screamed into his face.  
  
Branwen stifled a snicker, then used the din of confusion and laughter as cover to cross the room and slip out the portrait hole. She ran to a dark alcove where no paintings were there to spy on her clandestine escape. She pulled off the Cloak and stuffed it in her pocket. Then, throwing the latch on a window, she tossed her broom into the still air and leaned out to mount. She was immediately grateful for the thick jumper when the chilly night air whipped past as she flew toward the Quidditch pitch.  
  
As she approached the stadium, Branwen saw a lone figure darting through the air like a large bat. She grinned and flew alongside him. “All right, Black.”  
  
“Hey Potter. I knew you would show up.”  
  
She frowned. “What makes you say that? I thought I told you I was going to the party.”  
  
He shrugged. “Those gits you hang out with; I heard the way they talked to you in the pub. They don’t appreciate you. Besides,” he smirked, “it was only a matter of time before you realised who’s the superior Black.”  
  
Branwen was grateful for the dark of night which concealed the blush that rose to her cheeks. She covered her embarrassment with a jab at sarcasm. “Honestly, I can’t even tell the difference between you and your brother. Your heads are certainly the same size – barely big enough to fit your enormous egos. Now, do you have a Snitch ready or are we just going to make girly talk all night?”  
  
Regulus grinned. He reached into his pocket, then tossed the golden orb into the air. The two Seekers spent the better part of an hour soaring around the pitch. Branwen caught the Snitch three times, Regulus twice. Most of their time, though, was spent racing each other. They swirled in loops and rolls and dives for the sheer freedom and pleasure of it.  
  
They finally paused for a break to hover near the goalposts. The cool night air felt good against their sweating skin. A slight breeze rippled through Branwen’s moonlit hair and stirred Regulus’ cloak. The Black Lake was as still as a mirror, creating two moons and two sets of constellations. Branwen smiled, here eyes fixed on the horizon. “Have you ever flown over the Lake, Black?”  
  
Regulus started. He realised that, while Branwen had been staring at the Lake, he had been staring at her. He coughed, then said, “I haven’t. Not until tonight, that is.”  
  
Without another word, the two sped toward the expanse of water. It was one of the greatest moments of flying Branwen had ever experienced. She flew so close to the water that her toes dragged across the glossy surface and splashed her knees. She pulled up higher and higher then looped upside down so that she couldn’t tell the real moon from its watery twin.  
  
Regulus flew alongside, enjoying his own stunts and sensations. Caught up in his revels, Regulus left the lake body and soared over the Forbidden Forest, dancing and twisting among its high reaching branches.  
  
When Branwen paused to catch her breath, she realised she was alone. She glanced around and saw Regulus’ dark form circling the Forest. She leaned forward on her broom and swept toward him. “Hey, Black!”  
  
He pulled to a stop and waited for her to catch up. “I don’t think this is such a good idea,” she said.  
  
“You’re okay with flying over the Lake but not the Forest?” he quirked a brow.  
  
“I know how to swim, I don’t know how to survive impalement on a tree.”  
  
“Huh,” Regulus smirked, “I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be brave. Maybe the Hat sorted you wrong. Unless your whole House is actually full of cowards.”  
  
Branwen knew very well he was baiting her, but she rolled her eyes and grinned. “Race to the castle?”  
  
“Deal.” As soon as the word was out of his mouth, Regulus leaned forward and took off, Branwen hot on his heels. They were soon shoulder to shoulder. They began a jostle of hip-checking and knocking knees. It was a playful sparring, neither actually trying to unseat the other. So when Branwen fell back, Regulus laughed. “Hey Potter! I don’t intend to win by default!”  
  
She didn’t answer. He swung around and froze at what he saw.  
  
In the excitement of the race, Branwen had over-estimated her distance from the trees below. Her ankle caught on a twisting limb, and she toppled forward instantly. Gripping her broom, she tried desperately to pull up, but by then her tail-twigs were caught among the branches. The force yanked her backward and she crashed into the trunk of another tree. From there it was a pinball game, with Branwen as the ball. She bounced from tree to tree, smashing boughs all the way down. She landed with a resounding thud and the world went dark.  
  
  
  
Branwen knew she was on the ground and that she was outdoors. Everything was still black, but she could feel moist earth beneath her and hear leaves rustling in the breeze. An owl hooted from overhead. Her eyes opened, then squeezed shut again when pain flooded her body. She tried to push herself upright, but found that the exertion sent waves of agony through her ribcage with every breath.  
  
She tried one more time and bit back a scream. A piercing stab in her leg overrode every other sensation. She knew in an instant that it was broken.  
  
Breathing shallowly and moving an inch at a time, she was able to roll onto her back. When she caught her breath once more, she gasped and dug in her pockets. “Wand, wand, where is my – wand!” She breathed a painful sigh of relief when she found the rowan rod. It was intact.  
  
As Branwen lay flat on the ground, she took stock of her situation. The last thing she remembered was….flying with Regulus. Then she fell, somehow. She no idea how long she had been out, but judging from the tiny patch of sky she could see through the towering trees, it was still the deep of night.  
  
It was the cold of night too. The forest floor was damp, a thick layer of fallen leaves releasing what little moisture they had left in icy drops. A stiff breeze wound its way through the maze of trees, straight into Branwen’s bones.  
  
She shivered, but was grateful again for the thick jumper she had grabbed. She knew that without it, she would likely be frozen stiff by now. Even with it, though, her muscles were beginning to lock up and she knew she had to move.  
  
Grasping a low-hanging bough, she pulled herself up. Cold tears flowed freely as she grunted, groaned, and gasped. When she finally had her back to the tree, she let go all the way, sobbing in pain and desperation.  
  
Realisation dawned on her that she was in a forest that stretched on for miles, a forest that was nearly impossible to navigate from either ground or sky. The thought gripped her that she may never be found. She would die of starvation or thirst or cold and her body would rot away without ever being found.  
  
But her sobs were cut off abruptly when she glanced up once more. From the darkness, between the trees, a pair of yellow eyes was fixed on her. They grew larger as the animal to which they belonged crept toward her on silent feet.  
  
Branwen held her breath as the beast approached. With her gaze on the animal in front of her, it was a moment before she realised she was surrounded by the glowing eyes. They were within feet of her before she could distinguish their shape in the darkness. Five enormous wolves materialised from the shadows.  
  
She had never seen a wolf in real life before, so she had no frame of reference, but these seemed far too large to be average wild animals. The one that first approached, which she assumed to be the leader, towered above her from where she sat. She knew now that her death wouldn’t come from cold or hunger.  
  
But as the moments stretched on, the wolves made no aggressive moves. In fact, as the alpha moved toward her, it was with gentle, quiet steps, as though he were afraid of spooking her. His head lowered in submission. He continued until he was mere inches away. She could feel his warm breath, see it puffing in the cold air. Then he did something even more unexpected; he lay down.  
  
Branwen acted on instinct. After all, what does one do when a dog lays down and looks at you like that? She raised her hand to pet him. Gently, she stroked the thick scruff of the animal. The fur was much softer than she had expected and much thicker. Her fingers sunk into the warm hair. The wolf watched her through lowered eyes.  
  
“Well, at least I won’t die alone,” Branwen smiled.  
  
But the wolf stood suddenly, and Branwen jerked her hand back. He turned to the others who were watching their leader with soft curiosity. Turning to a light grey female, the alpha gave a low, guttural bark. The grey wolf nodded (nodded?! Branwen wondered if this was normal wolf behaviour or if she had finally succumbed to madness), and ran off into the forest.  
  
The alpha then approached Branwen once more, moving closer this time. He nuzzled her shoulder, then settled himself beside her, resting his head on her lap. The others gathered nearer as well. The warmth of their bodies was nearly as good as a fire on a hearth; it seeped through her and stilled the shivers that had racked her body.  
  
She was so comfortable, leaning against the soft wolf fur, that she almost forgot about the grey female that had run off. Branwen heard the wolf approach this time. She must have been carrying something large, for she crashed through the undergrowth with uncharacteristic noise. When she broke into their tiny clearing, Branwen gasped. Between the female’s gentle teeth was the Nimbus 1001. The tail twigs were terribly bent out of shape, but it was in one piece. The female laid the broom at Branwen’s feet.  
  
She started to reach for the broom, but hissed as the pain in her ribs renewed. She wasn’t sure she would even be able to mount it anyway. She leaned back against the tree and resumed petting the large canine. “This may be the weirdest thing to ever happen to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to Pottermore, there is a pack of semi-werewolves living in the Forbidden Forest; it is this pack that visits Branwen:  
>  **One curious feature of the condition is that if two werewolves meet and mate at the full moon (a highly unlikely contingency which is known to have occurred only twice) the result of the mating will be wolf cubs which resemble true wolves in everything except their abnormally high intelligence. They are not more aggressive than normal wolves and do not single out humans for attack. Such a litter was once set free, under conditions of extreme secrecy, in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, with the kind permission of Albus Dumbledore. The cubs grew into beautiful and unusually intelligent wolves and some of them live there still, which has given rise to the stories about ‘werewolves’ in the Forest.**


	40. Lost and Found

Regulus watched Branwen fall as though in slow motion. He knew there was no way to reach her before she crashed into the canopy, still, he yelled out her name and went into a sharp dive. As soon as he reached the treetops, he realised there was no way he could make it through.  
  
He circled until he found a tiny gap with just enough room to land. He started weaving through the trunks calling Branwen’s name. But it was dark. With the moon on the wane and the cover of the trees, it was like being in cave. And there was no way of telling how far he had travelled from the spot where she fell. Finding a Branwen in a Forbidden Forest had the same odds as finding a needle in a haystack.  
  
He hung his head in despair. He knew he had only one option. Lifting above the trees once more, he flew back toward Hogwarts.  
  
The Gryffindor fourth-year boys were passed out in their room. Their so-called “party” had involved only a few bottle of butterbeer and some light snogging from Sirius. It was well over by ten o’clock. Still, it relieved the stresses of school that had begun to weigh on the boys, and they easily slipped into a deep sleep. The peace and silence of the room was broken only by Remus’ steady snores.  
  
Then came a knock on the window.  
  
“Shut up, Moony,” Sirius snorted, then rolled over.  
  
The knocking continued.  
  
James groaned, then fumbled on his night-stand for his glasses and his wand. He shuffled toward the door. “Hello?”  
  
But the knocking persisted.  
  
James stared around, confused and half-asleep.  
  
“Make it stop,” Sirius mashed his pillow over his head.  
  
“What’s going on?” Remus yawned.  
  
Following the noise, James made his way to the window. He threw back the curtain, then stumbled backward. “Ah!”  
  
At James’ cry, Sirius and Remus leaped from bed. Sirius fell flat on his face in his haste while Remus shuffled into his slippers. When they made it to their friend, they were just as startled. Regulus was floating on his broom outside the window.  
  
“Merlin’s bloody balls,” Sirius cursed, then threw the latch and opened the window. “What the hell are you doing?” he screamed before noticing the look on his brother’s face. Regulus was deathly pale and trembling from more than the cold night air.  
  
“It’s Branwen. She’s lost. In the Forbidden Forest.”  
  
James screamed, “What are you talking about, Black?”  
  
“She and I were practising on the pitch, then we decided to race over the Forest. She fell and now I can’t find her.”  
  
The moon glinted off James’ glasses, an accusing spotlight aimed at the boy outside. “Come on, lads.”  
  
Remus was already standing over Peter’s bed, shaking him awake. James and Sirius grabbed their brooms and rushed to the window, ready to leap.  
  
“Wait! Wait!” Remus ran after them, followed by a stumbling Peter. “You’re not going without us.”  
  
Sirius frowned. “No offence, Moony, but I think you’ll be more of a hindrance than a help when it comes to flying.”  
  
“It wasn’t a question,” Remus’ voice was dangerously low.  
  
“Let him come,” James was already halfway out the window.  
  
Sirius sighed, but joined his friend in the night sky. James brought his broom parallel with the tower and Remus cautiously swung a leg behind him.  
  
“You coming, Peter?”  
  
“I, I think I’ll wait here.”  
  
There was no reply. Three brooms carrying four boys were soaring into the starry sky.  
  
Remus almost instantly regretted his decision. He squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could and wrapped his arms around James’ waist so tightly his friend thought he would be sliced in half. Ever since the Cushioning Charm had been invented, straddling the thin rod of wood was much more easier on the groin. But it was the dangling legs and lack of anything to grip (besides James) that terrified Remus. It was only his sheer determination to find Branwen that kept him from passing out and crashing to the ground.  
  
“All right, Regulus,” James growled as they slid to a stop over the Forest “where did you last see her?”  
  
Regulus gulped and glanced desperately around. The Forest looked the same all over. How could you tell one tree from another? A tear slipped down his cheek. “I don’t know.”  
  
  
  
James would never admit to it later, but he was terrified. His sister was down there, somewhere in the vast ocean of trees beneath his feet.  
  
He was reminded of the time when his two-year old self thought it would be a wonderful joke to cover his sister in their father’s Invisibility Cloak. When he couldn’t find her, he cried and cried for his “Bon-Bon.” It was that tiny tot that James pictured now. His baby sister, lost and alone. And it was all his fault.  
  
When Branwen got her letter, he had promised his parents that he would look after her at Hogwarts. He thought with guilt about all the trouble she had been in so far, all the detentions and close-shaves. But she had never been in such mortal peril before. Well, except the time she got hit with that Bludger. Or when she followed a full-fledged werewolf through a secret passage. And the last time she went into the Forest looking for those damn moths.  
  
James groaned internally. He was the worst big brother ever.  
  
Little did James know that his best friend was having the same sort of thoughts.  
  
Sirius was circling nearby, his eyes on the forest below, but his mind with his brother.  
  
He had always been worried about Regulus.  
  
He worried when he first saw the tiny bundle his mother brought home from St. Mungo’s. At only two years old, Sirius knew the tiny infant was far too fragile to be introduced into this cold world.  
  
He worried when Regulus took his first steps. Grimmauld Place was a literal deathtrap for most adults, but a tottering child was guaranteed injury. He was proved right when he found his brother stuck in the troll-foot umbrella stand near the door.  
  
He worried the day he saw Regulus staring in awe at the severed elf heads lining the walls. They were sickening to Sirius, something to turn away from, not admire.  
  
He worried when Regulus was ten and watched with excitement when their mother blasted their cousin Andromeda from the family tapestry.  
  
He worried when Regulus was eleven and sorted into Slytherin.  
  
Sirius was fifteen now, and he was done worrying about Regulus.  
  
Now it was the young girl lost in the woods that had him sick at heart. Over the last three years she and James had edged out his real family in his heart. She was his kin now and if he let her slip away like he did with Regulus….  
  
  
  
The boys continued to call out.  
“Bon-Bon!”  
  
“Bran!”  
  
“Branwen!”  
  
“Potter!”  
  
Branwen jerked up from her semi-conscious state. The large wolves were still circled around her. She ran her fingers through the alpha’s fur and grinned breathlessly. Regulus must have gone for her brother and friends. There was no mistaking their loud voices ringing above the trees. She drew breath to call out. “I’m here!”  
  
She groaned. The noise that came from her parched throat was barely loud enough to reach a few feet away.  
  
It was enough for ears of the wolves though. The alpha gently pulled from Branwen’s grasp and stood before his pack. As one they raised their heads and lifted their voices to the sky. Their howls resounded through the forest like a well-rehearsed choir.  
  
Remus looked up. For the first time since mounting the broom, he opened his eyes. “There,” he pointed at a spot that, to James, looked like every other part of the forest. But he turned to look at his friend and when Remus nodded, it was the only confirmation he needed. James waved his arm to alert the brothers, then dove toward the forest, following the cries of the wolves.  
  
James didn’t hesitate at the approaching treeline. He continued his perpendicular descent, smashing through branches, knocking into tree trunks. Remus’ eyes were squeezed shut again, but he felt twigs grasping at his pyjama shirt and was sure he the wings of a large bird brushed past his cheeks. He heard the other two boys following close behind. Together they made as much noise as a herd of hippogriffs. James didn’t slow as they neared a clearing. In fact, when he caught sight of his sister leaning against a tree, he poured on even more steam.  
  
Remus couldn’t take any more. He slid sideways off the broom and fell hundreds of feet to land flat on his back (actually only a few inches and he rolled quite nicely). He crawled to the nearest bush and was promptly sick.  
  
When he raised his head to wipe his chin, he saw James squeezing Branwen to his chest. There were no wolves to be seen.  
  
James’ shoulders were heaving, sobbing in relief, but Branwen kept wincing and whimpering. “Ow, ow, ow! James, knock it off!”  
  
Sirius and Regulus stood nearby. Regulus caught his brother’s eye and raised his brow in an unspoken question. Sirius nodded. His brother silently mounted his broom, rose through the trees and left the forest.  
  
James finally pulled away from his sister. He frowned then grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently. “What in the name of Merlin’s misfit mother are you doing out here!”  
  
“James,” Remus placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “priorities.” He indicated Branwen, who was trembling and biting her lip to keep from crying out.  
  
“Right,” James removed his glasses before pinching the bridge of his nose. “Anything broken?”  
  
Branwen nodded, tears falling anew. “My leg, and I think my ribs too.”  
  
“Well, you’re the Healer,” Sirius was nervously shifting from foot to foot, “why don’t you do something?”  
  
“I was….” she thought of the hypnotic eyes of the wolves, “I mean, I got…..distracted.”  
  
She pulled out her wand and pointed it at her fractured leg. “Ferula – ah!” She cried as the bandages set the broken limb. Then she lifted her arm and tried to aim at her ribcage. “I can’t get the angle right,” she said. “One of you will have to do it.”  
  
The boys glanced at one another, then Branwen sighed, wincing once more. “None of you brought your wands?”  
  
“Give me yours,” James held his hand out. When the rowan wood was in his hand, he hesitated. “Uh, what’s the spell again?”  
  
Remus huffed. “Give it here.” He took the wand and pointed it at Branwen’s ribs. “Episkey.”  
  
“Ooooh,” Branwen groaned in relief. It was the most comfortable she had felt all night.  
  
“Why don’t you just use that one on your leg?” Sirius asked.  
  
“That’s just for small breaks. My leg is definitely broken all the way through. I think my ribs are only a little cracked.” Then she turned to Remus. “You’re going to have to bind them though. I shouldn’t be moving more than necessary.” She raised the jumper and her blouse. James and the others grit their teeth at the sight of her purpled torso.  
  
“Ferula.”  
  
Branwen heaved another sigh when her ribs had been stabilised. “All right. Now how are we going to get out of here?”  
  
The boys glanced around once more. With Regulus gone, they only had two brooms.  
  
“Do you think you’d be able to get on behind Sirius?”  
  
“I can try.”  
  
Before she could even lift herself a few inches though, a crashing erupted from the woods. For a moment, Branwen thought (even hoped) that the wolves had returned, but she remembered their silent approach and knew it must be something, or someone, else.  
  
After a moment, a smaller noise distinguished itself from the louder rumbling. It rushed at them from low on the ground. Something small and furry launched itself onto Branwen’s lap and a tiny tongue was all over her face. “Brutus!”  
  
“I should’ve known,” Brutus’ giant master emerged from behind them. “What’re you four doin’ out here? Wait….” Hagrid paused and his eyes scanned the small group. “Are’n there usua’lly five of yeh?”  
  
“Peter can’t fly,” James answered.  
  
“Huh. Well, yeh still haven’t answered me other question. What’re yeh doin’ out here? ‘Specially this time o’ night.”  
  
“What are you doing out here?” Sirius shot back.  
  
Hagrid frowned at him a moment, then burst out laughing. “Fair question, lad., fair question. I won’t tell the professors if yeh won’t,” he winked.  
  
James smiled. “We’re here to rescue Branwen. She fell.”  
  
Hagrid nodded. “I was on the trail of a Streeler that, uh….wandered off.” Hurrying past this comment, he continued, “Looks like you need a visit to Pomfrey. C’mon.” Hagrid bent down and lifted Branwen as easily as if she was a doll. The swift movement sent a wave of pain crashing through her body though, and she passed out.  
  
“Bet’er foller me, boys. Too easy to get lost in here.”  
  
It was a much longer journey back to the castle than away from it. Remus used Branwen’s wand to light their way. He was, at first, grateful that this trip was on the ground, although he began to doubt this opinion after the fifth time a root appeared from no where and sent him sprawling into the undergrowth.  
  
When they emerged from the cavernous forest, the rising sun was spilling through the sky in wide pink and orange swaths. All four students looked much worse for wear: Branwen with her injuries, the boys with twigs and leaves stuck in their hair, scratches covering their face and arms, and mud splattered along the pants of their pyjamas. Despite the probable punishment that was waiting for them at the school, though, they had never been so happy to see its towering spires silhouetted against the dawn.


	41. Happenings in Hospital

Branwen woke from unconsciousness for the second time in twenty-four hours. She was grateful to find that this time she was in a soft, warm bed rather than on the cold, hard ground. In fact, she was so comfortable, she wondered if everything that had happened was only a dream.  
  
Then, as her eyelids fluttered, she heard Sirius’ voice. “Hey! She’s alive!”  
  
A hand grabbed hers and another flew to her forehead, brushing aside her hair. “Bon-Bon. You okay?”  
  
Branwen opened her eyes all the way, then drew in a startled breath. James, Sirius, and Peter were inches from her face, their eyes wide as they watched her reactions.  
  
“Come on,” Remus’ voice broke through the huddled group, “no one wants to wake up and see your ugly mugs. It’s enough to send someone back into a coma.”  
  
“That’s cold, Lupin,” Sirius said, but stepped back nevertheless.  
  
Despite protesting his friends’ huddle, Remus quickly took their place. He leaned in close; his green eyes were filled with so much concern, Branwen began to worry. Was she hurt worse than she had previously thought? “Give it to me straight,” she reached up and grabbed Remus’ shirt, “will I ever play Quidditch again?”  
  
Remus rolled his eyes. “She’s fine,” he announced to the chuckling boys.  
  
James shoved his friend aside and took his sister’s hand again. “Are you really okay, Bon-Bon? I mean, really, really?”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“Good.” He pulled her close and squeezed her as hard as he could. She thought for sure that he would break her ribs all over again. Then he shoved her back on to the pillows. “What the hell were you thinking! You could have been killed! Then mum would have killed me!”  
  
“In case you haven’t noticed, I came out of it quite well.”  
  
“Besides the broken leg, broken ribs, and,” Sirius tapped her forehead, “a scar lovely enough to rival our dear Moony.”  
  
Branwen’s hand flew to her brow. There was the tiniest of scratches below her temple.  
  
“Don’t worry, Bran,” Peter smiled, “you still look pretty.”  
  
“Thanks, Peter,” she smiled. “Um, by the way, what happened to Regulus?”  
  
“I sent him away,” Sirius huffed. “He doesn’t need to be involved.”  
  
“He did come and get us,” Remus said slowly.  
  
“Instead of looking for her himself,” James shot back.  
  
Seeing where the conversation was going, Branwen asked, “Hey, how long have I been out?”  
  
Remus looked at his watch. “We found you Saturday night and it’s Sunday afternoon now.”  
  
“Ugh,” she groaned. “I’ve been out a whole day?”  
  
“Thanks to Madam Pomfrey,” James said. “She gave you a Sleeping Draught. She said you’d be up running around if she didn’t. And I think she was right.”  
  
“Uh, speak of the devil,” Peter elbowed his friend.  
  
Just then, Madam Pomfrey strode from her office. The Healer, usually firm but kind, looked positively furious. “Miss Potter.”  
  
Branwen gulped, and the boys took a step back.  
  
“I am extremely disappointed in you.” There was a weighted silence. Branwen hung her head; she was unable to look Pomfrey in the eye as the woman said, “I have alerted Professor McGonagall about your activities. I’m sure she will have quite the punishment in store. As for me, I am seriously considering discontinuing your lessons here.”  
  
Branwen’s head shot up. “Oh, please, Madam Pomfrey. I’ll do a dozen detentions, but please let me keep coming.”  
  
“We’ll see,” Pomfrey pursed her lips. Then she turned to the boys. “And what are you still doing here?”  
  
Their eyes darted from Branwen to Pomfrey. Deciding quickly that they feared Pomfrey more than Branwen, they scurried from the room. Branwen tugged on Pomfrey’s robes though, and whispered something that had the woman biting back a tight smile. “Mr. Lupin,” she called. Remus was the last one out, pausing halfway through the door. “Miss Potter tells me that you owe her. That she is expecting….” the Healer quirked a brow, “a return on her gifts?”  
  
Remus grinned at the girl in the bed, then nodded. He darted out the room, and Branwen laid back on the pillows, smiling with satisfaction.  
  
Remus was back in less than half-an-hour. Branwen looked up in surprise. Her assumption that he must have run all the way was confirmed by his sweaty face and heaving chest. She giggled, “You didn’t have to set any speed records, you know.”  
  
“Yeah,” was all he could manage as he pulled up a chair beside his friend. He set a thermos of tea and a handful of chocolate cauldrons on her bedside table. On his lap was _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_. “Is this right?”  
  
She smiled and nodded. When she took a sip of the tea though, she grimaced. Who could possibly mess up tea? The answer was obviously Remus.  
  
He leaned forward anxiously. “Is it bad?”  
  
“Of course not!” She managed another swallow before setting it aside. “You know, Rem, something….something strange happened when I was out there in the woods.”  
  
He smirked. “Something stranger than crash landing in the middle of the Forbidden Forest while playing Quidditch late at night?”  
  
She blushed. “Yeah. I mean, yeah, this was pretty weird.”  
  
He waited for her continue.  
  
“Well, I was knocked out when I fell. And when I came to, these, uh, these wolves found me.”  
  
“Wolves? Did they hurt you?”  
  
She shook her head. “They were….intelligent. They came close enough to keep me warm. And, and one of them – a female I think – she brought me back my broom.”  
  
“They were intelligent?” Remus frowned.  
  
“And they weren’t werewolves,” she added quickly. “I mean, it wasn’t a full moon, of course. And their tails and snouts were all wrong. They were like regular wolves, but….but different.”  
  
Remus scratched at his arm. It must have been his jumper that Branwen had borrowed the day before, because he was wearing it now. “Dumbledore told me before I came here that there was a pack living in the Forbidden Forest. They’re not true werewolves, but they’re descendants of some. He said that they were the result of two werewolves….you know….mating, while they were in wolf-form.”  
  
Branwen’s head hung and Remus thought maybe she was crying when her shoulders began to shake. But then he heard a small giggle. His eyes widened when she lifted her head and tried to cover her mouth with her hand. Still, the giggling slipped out.  
  
“What’s so funny about that!” Remus snapped.  
  
Branwen sobered, but only a little. “It’s just that….well, how were they born? I mean, did the female have a litter of puppies while she was in human-form? And did she nurse them? All five of them at once? And then did she just throw them into the forest? Were they furry when she gave birth? It’s pretty absurd if you think about it.”  
  
Remus was once again amused, confused, and impressed by her view of his condition. Accidentally mating with another wolf had been added to Remus’ list of fears ever since Dumbledore told him about the pups. He had never considered that the minutiae of werewolf reproduction would be an odd, even humorous situation.  
  
Branwen had quieted and was carefully watching Remus’ face. Slowly, he began to crack a smile. She started giggling again. Then he joined in, chuckling. They laughed together, their enjoyment bubbling over and spilling through the room. Finally exhausted from his sprint and bout of laughter, Remus leaned forward in his chair to rest his head in her lap. His eyes searched hers. “Branwen?”  
  
“Hmm?” she absently trailed her fingers through his sandy hair.  
  
He paused, before asking, in nearly a whisper, “Why did you go out with Regulus? He’s a Slytherin. And a Black. Are we really that awful?”  
  
“No! I mean….I was just angry at James and Sirius for trying to kick me out of their party, which I sneaked through, by the way, and it was _not_ a party.” She paused. “Somehow that made me even more angry though. They didn’t want me around, even when they were just hanging out.”  
  
They were both silent for a few minutes. “They’re gits,” Remus finally said. “They don’t know what they’re talking about most of the time and they certainly didn’t then.” He sat up and placed his hand on top of hers. “Please don’t do anything that stupid again.”  
  
She swallowed hard, then smiled. “I solemnly swear.”  
  
“You know,” Remus said sheepishly, turning over the book in his hand, “you’ve read this book to me dozens of times, and I’ve never asked which story is your favourite.”  
  
She smiled. “It’s The Tale of the Three Brothers.”  
  
He returned her smile and nodded, opening the book to the page near the back where the story began. His soft voice quickly lulled her back to a silent rest.

The next morning, Branwen was awakened by the doors of the hospital wing slamming open and the steady sound of heels clicking on the tile floor.  
  
“Miss Potter!” Professor McGonagall’s voice drew the attention of the wing’s other residents, a Hufflepuff with a broken arm, and two Ravenclaws, both with suspiciously swollen lips. One stern look from McGonagall and they all diverted their attention.  
  
“Miss Potter, where do I even begin with all the infractions of school rules you committed? Out after curfew, illicit use of the Quidditch pitch, wandering through the Forbidden Forest….what do you have to say for yourself?”  
  
Branwen’s mouth opened, and she hoped that something clever would come out – or at least something. But she was saved by another slam of the doors. Argus Filch shoved four familiar Gryffindor boys in front of him. “Professor!” he shouted. “Do you know what I caught these boys doing!”  
  
Besides a near imperceptible twitch of an eye, McGonagall made no response.  
  
Taking her silence as a cue to continue, Filch growled, “They set fire to all the banners in the Great Hall.”  
  
McGonagall’s nostrils flared, but she again said nothing.  
  
Branwen shot a nasty glare at her brother and their friends. They avoided her eye, trying to look as innocent as possible, given the circumstances.  
  
The doors opened once more, this time admitting a quiet set of slippered footsteps. Eyes grew wide around the room as Albus Dumbledore walked up to the professor and caretaker, nodding and smiling. “Minerva. Argus.”  
  
Madam Pomfrey was the last to enter. She screamed, “What is going on here! Is this a hospital or the teacher’s lounge!”  
  
“I do apologise for the intrusion, Poppy,” Dumbledore inclined his head toward the Healer. “You see, I believe Minerva was about to issue a detention for these boys….and Miss Potter,” he nodded in deference once more, “however, I have a task that I believe will replace the need for such service. Lady, gentlemen, I would be delighted if you will join me in my office after you win,” he coughed, “I mean, after you play your Quidditch match on Saturday next.”  
  
“Albus, don’t you think – ” McGonagall started, but he silenced her with a raised hand.  
  
“Come, Minerva, you and I will discuss this further. And my sincerest apologies once more, Poppy. Argus, have a nice day.”  
  
Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Filch left the room, Filch muttering that setting the students on fire would teach them not to set school property on fire.  
  
Pomfrey huffed, then turned to Branwen. “You may leave now, Miss Potter. And I will see you at our lessons….after the Christmas holidays.”  
  
Branwen’s shoulders sagged and she shuffled out the room behind her friends. From the way the other students stared, she knew this story would be all over the school by evening – at the very latest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to prove I'm not making up the stuff about the wolf pack:  
> https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/werewolves


	42. A Dark and Stormy Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: harassment, cat-calling, unwanted sexual attention

The tale of Branwen’s illegal escapade had taken hold, and been greatly embellished, before she was even released from hospital. According to the gossip in the halls, she had stolen a rogue hippogriff which had thrown her into the Forest as she tried to ride it to the coast. Her friends then battled trolls and ogres and all other manner of viscous creatures in order to rescue her. When she was returned to the castle, she had to have several fingers reattached. Or so the story went.  
  
The most remarkable (and the only true) aspect of the repeated tale was that none other than Dumbledore himself had visited them and cancelled any detention they might have incurred. Everyone wanted to know what kind of magic the five Gryffindors worked that got them out of a punishment for such outlandish acts. Severus and Lily especially watched them with suspicion throughout the week.  
  
By the end of the week, though, Branwen’s story had become old news. Now everyone’s attention was focused on the upcoming match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Shacklebolt did his best to keep the team in order, but in the days leading up to the match, the Prewett twins dazzled the Great Hall with red and gold fireworks and banners that roared like lions. By the end of the week, the banners not only roared, but booed anytime someone said the word “Slytherin.”  
  
The day of the match was the stormiest of the year so far. The November winds whistled around every corner, howling like an animal in pain. Every few minutes the steely sky would tear apart and roar with thunder. Rain had yet to fall, but no one doubted it was close at hand.  
  
Remus and Peter left the Great Hall after breakfast, their friends having already headed to their locker rooms. They walked down to the stadium with the wind clawing at their overcoats, as though determined to rip the cloaks from their backs. The usually colourful stands were a sea of black and grey. Some brave (or foolish) souls had dared to bring umbrellas, but they were quickly swept out of their hands, twirling and tumbling across the pitch like so many black, spindled tumble-weeds.  
  
As they walked, Peter wrung his hands and whined at Remus’ elbow. “What do think Dumbledore wants with us? Are we going to be expelled? What if he turns us over to the Ministry?”  
  
Remus sighed like an increasingly impatient parent. “What on earth would the Ministry want with us? We were out in the Forest after hours, not robbing Gringotts. Now sit.” He shoved his friend’s shoulder, forcing him onto a bench.  
  
They found themselves beside Marlene and Mary, but Lily wasn’t with them. “Where’s Evans?” Remus asked the girls. “She never misses a match.”  
  
Marlene rolled her eyes. “She’s angry with Potter and your little gang for always getting away with everything. So she’s protesting by sitting over there.”  
  
Remus followed the line of her pointing finger. He saw Lily across the pitch sitting beside Severus in the Slytherin section. Despite the bravery of her intentions, she was looking very uncomfortable. Severus was marking in a book beside her and seemed completely unaware of the attention his friend was drawing, especially from seventh-years Dolohov and Moriarty. Even from his position across the pitch, Remus could see the boys cat-calling and making crude remarks to the red-haired Gryffindor girl.  
  
Down on the pitch, the teams faced off. The wind whipped red and green robes like taut flags, snapping them back on their wearers. Branwen came face-to-face with Regulus for the first time that week. She was furious that, despite leading the others to her, he left them in the Forest and then studiously avoided her from then on.  
  
Shacklebolt and McTavish shook hands. The sound of Madam Hooch’s whistle was lost in a crack of thunder, but the teams saw the silver instrument on her lips and leapt into the air.  
  
It was a physical match from the start. The Prewetts smashed into Wilkes and Rosier as soon as they were in the air, sending the Slytherin Chasers spinning. James took the opportunity to snatch the Quaffle and, guarded up the pitch by Sirius and Shacklebolt, made the first score five minutes into the game.  
  
With the activity whirling beneath her, Branwen flew alongside Regulus. She had to scream to be heard over the wind and splatters of rain that had just started to fall.“I hope you’re happy! I broke my leg down in that Forest! I may never have been found! Was that your plan? Get me out of the way and you could be the best Seeker in the school?”  
  
“Are you kidding me? I went and found your idiot brother. There was no plan!” he yelled. “I only wanted to have fun with a friend.”  
  
“Then why did you ditch me and the others in the Forest? And why have you ignored me all this time? Friends don’t do that!”  
  
A roll of thunder and the increasing rain drove them apart. It was nearly as dark as night now and cold raindrops pelted their faces.  
  
“Oooh,” Peter shivered in the stands. “Come on, Bran. Get it over with.”  
  
Remus only pulled his coat tighter, but silently agreed.  
  
Branwen must have had the same thought, for she gave up her usual methodic search and was darting back and forth across the field, diving into corners, whipping faster than the wind in her desperate search for the Snitch. Regulus finally caught up to her, smashing hard into her shoulder, causing her to pull up.  
  
“Is this your idea of an apology?” she shouted.  
  
“I just want you to stop and shut up for a minute!” Regulus glanced around, but no one seemed to notice the two Seekers conversing. Between the rain and dark, it was a surprise they could see each other. “Look, the only reason I ignored you was because….because I was ashamed. I kept saying our brothers and those other gits weren’t good enough for you. But when it came down to it, I was the one who put you in danger and they were the ones who rescued you. You deserve them, not a prat like me.”  
  
Branwen wrung the rain from her hair. It was likely the closest to an apology that a Black ever made. She smiled sheepishly.  
  
“We’re all right?” Regulus looked hopeful.  
  
“Yeah, we’re all right.”  
  
A scream interrupted their conversation. Looking up, the Seekers realised they were just below the Slytherin stands. Lily Evans was being dragged through the crowd by Antonin Dolohov and Francis Moriarty. Severus was crawling after them, stepping on his fellow students, but his wand remained in his pocket.  
  
A shout and blast came from above. “Protego!” James’ Shield Charm threw the two Slytherins to their feet, giving Lily a chance to run from the stands.  
  
Another shout followed. “Petrificus Totalus!” Sirius’ spell cast Dolohov and Moriarty into a Full Body-Bind Curse.  
  
Severus finally made it to where the seventh-years were laying, stiff grimaces on their faces. He released them, then glared at James and Sirius, who smirked before flying off.  
  
Between the storm and the Prewetts scoring another two goals, the scene in the Slytherin stands went unnoticed by the rest of the spectators.  
  
The wind and rain were raging harder than ever. Branwen and Regulus knew that one of them had to catch the Snitch soon, or the game would be a draw, no points to either team. They would never have spotted it though, had the tiny orb not flown directly between them, its soft wings brushing their ears as though wanting to be found.  
  
Without another word to each other, Branwen and Regulus raced forward. The Snitch flew forward several more yards, then doubled back on itself, racing toward them once more. Regulus took the time to turn around, but even though he could spin on a dime, he couldn’t beat Branwen who, instead of turning, simply flipped upside down on her broom. Her legs hooked around the thin shaft of wood and the Snitch flew neatly into her hand.  
  
No one but Regulus saw the phenomenal catch though. It was too dark, too wet. The Seekers flew up to Madam Hooch, waving their arms to indicate the game was finished. She did a sweep of the pitch, alerting the rest of the players to the end of the match. Both teams gladly landed and rushed to their respective locker rooms.  
  
James, Sirius, and Branwen skipped the locker rooms, meeting up with Remus and Peter in the Entrance Hall. Each of them stood in their own puddle, dripping from their thoroughly soaked clothes. Branwen giggled when Sirius gave a canine shake of his head and body, resulting in a further splashing on the rest of them. Remus rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand. His warm air charm had them all sighing in relief, glad to be back in dry clothes and feel their fingers once again.  
  
“Well,” James pushed a hand through his hair, “are you ready?”  
  
They nodded, except for Peter who was still trembling from head to toe.  
  
The five of them made their way cautiously down the hall. The only students they passed were Gryffindor prefects Bertha Jorkins and Kaleb Newman who congratulated them on their recent win. Everyone else was likely huddled around their common room fires, drying themselves out and exaggerating the glories of this match and all the ones before it.  
  
When they reached the gargoyle that McGonagall had pointed out to them, they paused and looked between themselves. It was James who stepped forward and said, “Chocolate cauldron.”  
  
The gargoyle stood aside and they found themselves squished together on a narrow staircase that slowly revolved upward. The stairs came to a stop in front of an imposting oak door. James again took the lead and knocked, though quite more timidly than he had intended.  
  
“Come in.”  



	43. Prophecy Revisited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you've stayed up to date with my chapters as they're posted, you'll probably notice some confusion here. Initially, I was going to include a scene in the Ministry of Magic, but decided to save that for the next book. So the chapter that follows here is a bit of reworking, but ultimately ends with the same result as the MoM scene would have. If chapters 42 and 43 are read as they stand now, it should hopefully have a clear flow. If there is still any confusion, please let me know :)

They followed the orders of the soft voice and entered a room that looked like a cross between a museum and a science lab. The windows showed only the dark, stormy sky, leaving the room in the dim light of floating candles. Hundreds of books were cluttered on shelves, and on the many teetering tables were dozens of devices, some spinning, others puffing and whistling. The walls were lined were portraits of previous headmasters of Hogwarts, each craning their neck to get a look at the students still huddled by the door.  
  
“Don’t be afraid,” Dumbledore half-stood from the chair behind his enormous desk, beckoning them in.  
  
They edged toward the five armchairs that had been arranged for them. As they approached, their attention was drawn to the bird perched beside the desk. He was the size of a large swan with feathers of scarlet and gold. He peered down his beak at them with wide black eyes. To Branwen, he was the loveliest thing she had ever seen, but the bird seemed to leer at Peter and he scuttled to the chair farthest away.  
  
“This is Fawkes,” Dumbledore indicated the bird with a smile. “A more faithful companion has never been born.” The Headmaster waved a hand and a full tea appeared before each of them. “Now….I trust you’re doing well, Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin, Mr. Pettigrew, Miss Potter,” he chuckled. “That’s quite a mouthful. Perhaps you would do well to come up with a collective name for the five of you. You know, Madam Pomfrey has often described you as her ‘marauders,’ always running around on clandestine operations, nicking treats from the kitchens….”  
  
“If this is about those pies, I told Sirius not to go back for more!” Peter gushed.  
  
Sirius glared at his friend in a way that let him know the minute they were out of the Headmaster’s sight, he would regret his comment.  
  
“I’m sure you did,” Dumbledore eyed a flushing Peter. “But the fact of the matter is, I’ve not brought you here to talk about what you have done, but rather, what you will do.”  
  
“Sir?” James raised a brow.  
  
“When Hagrid dropped you off last week, Miss Potter, he kindly consented to join me for tea. He also happened to mention that you had all been given a prophecy by the centaur, Calchas. A prophecy which you have yet to relay to me,” he peered at them over his half-moon spectacles.  
  
They all shifted in their seats. James glanced at his friends. He seemed to have been tacitly nominated as their spokesman. “We’re sorry, sir. We should have come straight to you. I – I don’t think any of us can remember it now.”  
  
“I thought as much. Luckily for you,” Dumbledore continued, “Hagrid offered to show me his memory of the event. I viewed it in my Pensieve and took the liberty of writing it down. Would you like to read it?”  
  
Without waiting for them to respond, he lifted his wand and a scroll of parchment unrolled itself, revealing the words that had been spoken to the children:

**A darkness has risen out of which only the young will find their way. In the crescent of the moon, love will die and love will live. The least among you will become the best of them, the best of you will become the least, and the last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.**

James spoke again. “Please sir, are we supposed to know what it means?”  
  
Dumbledore chuckled. “As helpful as that would be, it is rare, if not impossible, to fully understand the meaning of a prophecy until after it has come to pass.”  
  
“Sir, does this prophecy include me?” Branwen spoke in a small voice. “I wasn’t there when it was made.”  
  
“But,” James leaned forward, “when the centaurs found us, they kept asking where our ‘fifth’ was. They wanted to make sure we found you, Bran.”  
  
Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, I believe you are right, Mr. Potter. This prophecy refers to your sister as well. Now, though it may difficult to divine its true meaning, I would be very interested in hearing your interpretations. After all, you,” he indicated them all, “are its subjects.”  
  
Sirius licked his chapped lips; his dark eyes kept darting to one of the portraits on the wall. Phineas Nigellus Black was sneering down at his great-great-grandson. Seeing the boy’s eyes widen in fright, Dumbledore turned around. “Phineas. Don’t you have business to attend to elsewhere?”  
  
The former Headmaster grinned wickedly. “As it would happen, my calendar is free this afternoon. And lucky thing too, seeing that my _dear_ grandson is here.”  
  
“Phineas, if you choose to remain, I will have to bind you under the strictest of confidences.”  
  
Black seemed to consider this, then, with a flourish of his cloak, strode out of the frame. He was no doubt heading for his second canvas in Grimmauld Place, confident that he already had enough intelligence on his traitorous descendant to pass on to Walburga.  
  
Dumbledore nodded to Sirius. “Please. I believe you had something to share with us?”  
  
“Well, I….I mean….this summer, there were meetings at my house. Voldemort was holding them. I think….I think that might be part of the darkness in the prophecy.”  
  
“Hmm. Yes. That is very likely.”  
  
Encouraged by the Headmaster’s acceptance of his theory, Sirius forged on. “I can give you names, if you want.”  
  
“I will want them, later. For now –”  
  
Remus, who had not spoken since they entered the office, seemed to positively burst with his question. “Why does it say ‘the crescent of the moon,’ sir? Why….why not the full moon?”  
  
Dumbledore smiled. “Ah, that is easily explained. You see, neither evil nor love are dictated by the phases of the moon. Only by our actions.”  
  
“B-but it says, ‘love will die’….”  
  
“And that ‘love will live’!” Branwen almost jumped from her seat, daring Remus to counter her. He hung his head.  
  
Peter groaned and tugged on his own hair. “This is all so confusing!”  
  
“What about the part about death?” James ignored Peter, who was still moaning. “I mean, death can’t be destroyed….can it?”  
  
“Under usual circumstances, the answer is of course, no.” Dumbledore tented his fingers and studied his desk. “But there are means of dark magic….” he sighed and hung his head. “Why is it always the young, Everard?”  
  
The portrait of a sympathetic, dark-haired man shook his head sadly. “I only wish we knew, Albus.”  
  
“It is because they are always so much stronger than we think,” a kindly witch wearing the crossed bone and wand of St. Mungo’s looked over the students with melancholy admiration.  
  
Dumbledore sighed once more, then raised his head. “You must forgive the musings of these old cynics,” he smiled. “You see, it is the part of the prophecy that refers to ‘the young’ which concerns me the most. I fear a war is coming, and wars should never be fought by children.”  
  
“A war with Voldemort, sir?” James asked.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. “Indeed. In fact, if I am not mistaken, it is already under way.”  
  
He seemed to forget the children and, for a few minutes, the room was filled only with small wheezes and puffs from the odd silver instruments, and the gentle snores coming from the portraits of the eldest Headmasters.  
  
“Sir….?” James finally leaned forward.  
  
Dumbledore started. “Hm? Oh, yes….you may go now, but try to keep this,” he pointed at the scroll, “in mind. You may soon be called upon to do things above and beyond what is expected for ones so young. And be careful.” He gave a pointed look at each of them. “Be careful.”


	44. Of Soulmates and Animagi

Upon leaving the Headmaster’s office, the five friends thought that perhaps they had gotten off easy. After all, they had expected at least a week of evening detentions to pay for the their crimes. But they soon realised that five months hard labour would have been preferable to the weight of the prophecy they now bore on their shoulders.  
  
They walked around the school with uncharacteristic solemnity. Even Peeves, who they usually battled with relish, couldn’t evoke a reaction. The only thing that interrupted their despair was the upcoming full moon, which fell the evening before the Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw match.  
  
  
  
A few days before the full moon, Branwen journeyed into the library searching for the books Remus had recommended for her Defence Against the Dark Arts essay.  
  
A voice called out, “Potter!”  
  
She glanced over her shoulder. Lily Evans was sitting at a corner table across from Severus Snape. She motioned Branwen over.  
  
“Morning, Branwen. Is it okay if I called you Branwen?” Lily smiled and motioned to the seat beside her. Severus eyed them warily, but his face was soon obscured by curtains of greasy hair as he bent back over his parchment.  
  
“Um, yeah, it’s okay.” Branwen sat down nervously. “Everything all right?”  
  
Lily twirled her quill in her fingers. “Look, I know it was your brother that rescued me from those horrid Slytherin boys last weekend. I just want to know why he hasn’t said anything. It’s not like him to keep quiet about something like this.”  
  
Branwen pulled her shoulders back, straightening in her chair. “If there’s one thing our parents taught us, it’s that you should do the right thing because it’s right, not because you’re looking for a reward. James may be nothing more than a strutting peacock about stupid things like grades and appearances, but he’s not going to hold this over you if that’s what you’re worried about.”  
  
Lily pursed her lips, but said nothing.  
  
“Lily?” The girl looked up at the use of her first name. “James really fancies you. I mean, really, really fancies you.”  
  
Lily opened her mouth, but Branwen rushed on. “I mean it. I’ve never seen him look at anyone like he does with you. The only thing he talks about more than you is Quidditch. And – and he really is a nice guy.”  
  
Severus coughed loudly to cover a derisive laugh. Branwen met him with a nasty glare. “Look, I’m his sister, right?” She continued addressing Lily. “I’ve seen him every day of my life – almost fourteen years. He’s clever and funny and probably handsome I guess, if you’re into messy hair and dorky glasses and weird teeth...Anyway, don’t you think you could give him a chance? Maybe go to Hogsmeade with him next time he asks?”  
  
Severus made a choking sound.  
  
Branwen narrowed her eyes. “You might want to get that cough checked out, _Snivellus_. I’d hate for you to end up in the hospital wing.”  
  
“Branwen, let it go,” Lily grit her teeth.  
  
When Branwen and Severus broke eye contact and settled back in their chairs, Lily sighed and set her quill down. “Look, Branwen, it’s not just James that upsets me. It’s this whole wizarding culture. Everyone settles down so early. In the Muggle world, we date off and on during secondary school, then we graduate, get a job, and finally meet someone we want to marry. Here, it seems like everyone knows exactly who they’ll end up with even before they graduate.”  
  
Branwen frowned. She had never considered this an anomaly. Slowly, she said, “Well, the Muggle population is a lot bigger than ours. I mean, how many Muggles are in London alone? Probably thousands.”  
  
Lily giggled. “Try seven million.”  
  
Branwen’s jaw dropped. “Woah. Well, there you go. Millions of people to choose from. Here in our world – _your_ world – what you see is what you get. I suppose unless you marry someone much older or younger, or someone from a foreign school, you can almost guarantee meeting your soulmate while you’re here at Hogwarts.”  
  
Lily leaned forward suddenly, her green eyes locked on Branwen’s blue ones. “Branwen, do you really believe in soulmates?”  
  
“I do,” Severus spoke for the first time. The girls looked at him in surprise, but he chose not to elaborate, hiding once again behind his greasy locks.  
  
Branwen watched him warily, but continued. “I suppose I do. Maybe not for everyone, but I’ve seen it. My parents are soulmates.”  
  
“Do you think you’ve met your soulmate?”  
  
Branwen squirmed uncomfortably. “I – I don’t know.” It was her turn to ask the older girl a question. “How do you know if you’ve met him? How do you know he’s the one?”  
  
“I don’t know really,” Lily sighed. “I suppose….there will just be something in your heart. A gut feeling that – I don’t know – calls out to that person. Like you’ve known them forever, even if you’ve only just met.”  
  
“And if you’ve known each other for a while?” Branwen asked.  
  
“Then, maybe you grow to be soulmates. Or maybe you just wake up one day and look at them like you’ve never seen them before. They’ll just glow from the inside. Everything about them will be beautiful. You’ll realise that a day with them would be better than a lifetime without.” Lily’s eyes had taken on a far off, misty look.  
  
“Had much experience with this, have you?” Branwen giggled.  
  
Lily flushed a bright red to match her hair. “No. I’ve just read a lot about it.”  
  
A wicked smirk curled Branwen’s lips. “Do you think you could grow to be James’ soulmate? Maybe you’ll wake up some day and see him glowing?”  
  
Severus rolled his eyes. “Has this whole conversation been leading up to that ridiculous question?”  
  
“No!” Branwen said quickly. Before she could say anything else though, James’ head poked around the corner of the shelf closest to them. “Hey Bran – oh, well hello Evans.” He winked and shoved his hands in the pockets of his robes as he strolled toward them.  
  
“Bye Branwen,” Lily stood and gathered her parchments and books, depositing them in her bag. She shouldered the bag and turned to follow Severus out of the library, but paused, looking back over her shoulder. “And….thanks, Potter.”  
  
She was gone before he respond.  
  
“What was that all about?” James stared at the doorway through which she had left.  
  
“Forget it, James,” Branwen laid a hand on her brother’s arm. “Did you come looking for me?”  
  
“Hm?” He glanced back at her. “Oh! Oh yeah. It’s Remus. He’s trying to convince Sirius to go for a run around the Lake. And in case you haven’t noticed, it’s about minus twelve out there. I think it’s his furry little problem acting up. Anyway, I need you to come help me talk him out of it.”  
  
“All right, I’m coming.” Branwen gathered up her things and followed her brother from the library.  
  
  
  
Happy thoughts of soulmates and handsome men who would one day glow quickly vanished from Branwen’s mind. On the night of the full moon, the friends gathered once again in the tunnel beneath the Shack. It was well below freezing and, while the four of them enjoyed the warmth of body heat and blankets, Remus had only the adrenaline of his transformation to stave off hypothermia.  
  
Sometime during the night, Branwen cried herself into a numb sort of consciousness. The sound of growling and the tearing of flesh echoed down the tunnel. She knew that, with no other prey, Remus was ripping his own skin, destroying himself for the sake of things out of his control. The agonised cries of her friend brought Dumbledore’s words ringing back into her ears with alarming clarity. “I fear a war is coming.” How could anyone ask her best friend to fight a war when he already fought a battle with himself every day?  
  
In the tunnel, it was always night. The only signal of the approaching sun was the howls from above. They turned from animal to human in the most excruciating ways. It was the last whine, the whimper of pain that was unmistakeably man, that signalled the friends it was safe for them to enter.  
  
Remus often stripped down before his transformations. The change of his body into a much larger one destroyed his clothes, and he couldn’t afford to replace them every month. So when Branwen rushed in to perform her initial treatments, she always brought a blanket and a warm robe to wrap him in. He suffered in new ways each time though, and tonight, no matter how she bundled him, he seemed unable to stop his violent shivers.  
  
The boys helped him through and out the tunnel, where they found an owl waiting for them (well out of reach of the homicidal tree). The bird carried a note from Madam Pomfrey, informing them that the hospital wing was full of students who had caught colds while at the Quidditch match and advising that they simply head back to their dorm.  
  
The strongest of them, James and Sirius, gingerly carried their friend to Gryffindor Tower and laid him in his bed. Pomfrey came to perform a perfunctory examination a few moments later, then left him in the care of Branwen.  
  
While the boys all collapsed into their beds, Branwen sat beside Remus. She gently stroked back his hair with one hand while dabbing at his wounds with a dittany solution. Bite marks littered his arm, almost obscuring the self-inflicted razor slashes. He hadn’t stopped shivering.  
  
“It’s going to be all right,” Branwen whispered. She used a spell to stoke the fire, then used the Summoning Charm to gather more blankets from the linen closest. She felt his forehead. He was still trembling, but cold drops of sweat were beading on his skin.“Tergeo.” She used the spell to siphon away the perspiration.  
  
“Remus,” she whispered. “Remus, may I lay down?”  
  
He managed a slight nod of his head.  
  
Branwen removed her shoes, then peeled back the blankets and slid in beside him. His hand reached out to brush her cheek, his weak touch like a butterfly dancing across her skin. He croaked out a soft, “Thank you.”  
  
Her own skin flushed a deep red, and her body warmed enough for the both of them. She tentatively reached out and laid a hand across his chest. They were both asleep within minutes.  
  
  
  
They all awoke on Saturday evening. The boys reluctantly pulled out their homework and Branwen brought hers over as well. She helped Peter with his Potions while James and Sirius shared their Transfiguration notes with Remus. It was a quiet weekend. The rain from Friday continued steadily over the next two days.  
  
By Sunday afternoon, homework had been completed and they found themselves engaged in quiet activities. Peter wheedled Sirius into a game of Gobstones, though Sirius switched out the pleasantly-scented stones from the Potters with his own foul-smelling collection. James was writing a letter home, and Remus, still in bed, had a book open on his lap.  
  
Branwen was sitting in front of the fire, downwind from the Gobstone game. She had a piece of parchment open on the floor with a detailed plan and checklist for their upcoming Animagus attempt. She had been over every detail a hundred times and felt certain that this would be it. Bored with the silence, she said, “What do you think yours will be?”  
  
“Um, our what, Bran?” Sirius leaned back on his elbows.  
  
“Your Animagus form. What do you think it will be?”  
  
“We don’t get to choose?” Peter’s face screwed up in confusion.  
  
“I don’t think so,” Branwen consulted her notes again. “It just says ‘The shape of the creature into which you will shortly transform will appear in your mind.’”  
  
James spun in his desk chair, his chest puffed out. “Obviously I’m going to be something big and awesome. Like a dragon!”  
  
“Pfft! You’ll be lucky if you end up a Flobberworm!” Sirius laughed.  
  
“Yeah? Well, you’ll probably end something totally useless, like a butterfly or a dung beetle.”  
  
“I want to be a hippogriff,” Peter grinned.  
  
Sirius rolled his eyes. “You hate flying; why would you want to be a hippogriff?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” Peter looked crestfallen. “Well, maybe I can be a dog or a wolf or something.”  
  
Branwen laughed. “You can’t be a wolf! We already have one of those!”  
  
Even Remus joined in the laughter while Peter blushed a bright pink.  
  
“What do you think you’ll be, Bon-Bon?”  
  
She placed a finger on her chin, giving the matter serious consideration. “Hmm….it has to be something useful, something big that can take on a werewolf….maybe something like a bear or a lion.”  
  
Remus snickered.  
  
“Excuse me,” Branwen placed her hands on her hips. “What’s so funny?”  
  
“Well, it’s just that you’re not exactly the ferocious type. I have a hard time imagining you as a giant bear or a roaring lion.”  
  
“Then, pray tell, oh great Seer, what do you think we all will be?”  
  
“Yeah, tell us, oh wise one.” James and the others piled on to Remus’ bed, staring at him like acolytes waiting for word from the oracle.  
  
“Well,” Remus straightened himself on his pillows and considered each of his friends. “Sirius, you’ll be a dog.”  
  
Sirius frowned. “Is this because of my name?”  
  
“Of course. And James, you’ll be….something with natural leadership, something like….a horse.”  
  
“I could live with that,” James shrugged.  
  
“Peter….” Remus squinted at his friend, “you’re smaller than the rest of us so you’ll be a cat or a rabbit.”  
  
“Those aren’t very useful,” Peter mumbled.  
  
“But they’re cute,” Branwen poked him in the side.  
  
“Branwen, you’re the hardest to place.” Remus stared at her so long that she began to blush under the intensity of his bright eyes. “You’re clever, like a fox, but jabbery, like a bird. So maybe something like a hawk or an eagle.”  
  
Sirius grinned. “Or a Fwooper!” They all laughed at the idea of Branwen as the colourful bird whose voice was known to drive listeners to madness. She laughed along with them, but took a pillow and whacked Remus in the face. It was an instinctive cue that turned the entire room into a mass pillow fight.  
  
It was as though a huge breath they had all been holding was released with gusto. Maybe there was a war coming. Maybe they would have to fight. But not today. Today, the only weapons they would wield were pillows, and the only casualty would be James’ glasses, smashed under Peter’s heel.


End file.
